


With Blood and Body

by foxbee



Category: Legacies (TV 2018), The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxbee/pseuds/foxbee
Summary: Post alternate 5x6 in which Klaus helps Hayley through a difficult time.Klaus blinks and wets his lips. “We both know Elijah would be better suited for your struggles. But he is gone and I am not.” He puts his hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly. “Feed properly or youwillharm someone.”
Relationships: Antoinette/Elijah Mikaelson, Declan/Hayley Marshall, Hayley Marshall/Klaus Mikaelson, Landon Kirby/Hope Mikaelson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

*

_And in the end, we were all just humans...drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness_

_~ Fitzgerald_

*

[ o n e ]

*

They bought a house in a town about thirty minutes outside of New Orleans. Declan wanted a quiet country home where they could _stretch their legs_. He’d also mentioned how nice the yard would be for Hope’s future children when they came to stay. Envisioning something like that, after everything, Hayley had nearly cried like a baby.

Last time she planned similarly for her future, Elijah had woven images of the French countryside and promised she’d be happy -always and forever. He was there now, and she was here. Except now, she held these memories for the both of them. Elijah had his fresh start and everyone around her had urged her to do the same. So she’d said yes to Declan’s proposal. It was an easy yes. He’s a good man -makes her laugh, adores Hope, accepts the Mikaelsons and everything that comes with being one. 

It’s a good life. One she’d dreamed of since getting kicked out on her ass as a newly triggered teen wolf years ago. So, she drinks too much wine every night to dull the bullshit that keeps trying to creep in and ruin it all. Then, she wakes in the morning wanting a gallon of blood and mutters things to her disheveled reflection like “be happy you self sabotaging bitch.”

  
  
Hayley’s on the back deck overlooking their pond-like pool, sipping blood from a coffee mug that says _coffee then talkee_ (because Declan is always buying her things like that). The clouds are low and heavy, she wonders about the tropical storm brewing in the gulf. Wind whips through the trees, littering the pool with scattered leaves and broken twigs. 

Hayley’s phone buzzes in her lap and she scoops it up to read, _hey parents, just heard the storm changed direction. If it gets worse my flight might be delayed. Landon’s decided to hang with Raf, so it’s just me._ She notes Hope included Klaus in the message so she waits for his reply as she gulps down the rest of the blood. 

Declan’s expecting her at work soon. Ignoring the euphoric buzz of the first feed of the day, she hurries to the kitchen, rinsing the mug. She quickly opens a can of cat food and sets out the decorative bowl. Coriander sashays into the room, flicking her tail. Hayley had wanted a dog but Declan found the kitten outside of the restaurant and promised to find her a suitable home. That was three years ago. Coriander hates other animals and all people. Except Declan. Hayley still feeds the blue eyed white puff of endless shedding hair because the feline makes Declan smile. 

“You gonna eat it or stare at me?”

Coriander sits firmly, daintily grooming a paw. Hayley rolls her eyes and maneuvers by, heading towards the bedroom. The cat tosses a hiss and Hayley hisses back. 

*

They named the restaurant _Camille’s_ and it quickly became a New Orlean’s success, due of course to Declan’s amazing culinary skills. It’s empty when Hayley climbs out of the taxi in the city, as it tends to be after the morning coffee and pastry rush. They’re still sharing one car since his old Benz finally died, but she likes the taxi rides in the morning. She can just zone out and enjoy the blood buzz while it lasts.

She’s washing dishes in the back while Declan trains the new waitress, listening to the prep cooks chat about the storm over the whirring dough machine. Hayley’s phone dings, the screen showing a reply to Hope from Klaus. Hayley dries her hands on a nearby towel and opens the text. _Keep us informed, sweetheart. The storm isn’t likely to cause much more than a downpour. Hopefully, the airlines feel the same and you are eating dinner with us by tomorrow tonight; I’ll never see your mother otherwise._

Hayley smiles, shaking her head. It’s true, she really only sees Klaus when Hope is in town. There’s just not a commonality in their lives any longer with Elijah memoryless and gone, Rebekah and Marcel living in their New York City brownstone, Freya traveling for Keelin’s work, and Hope teaching in Mystic Falls. There are no immediate threats or impending supernatural woes dooming the family as of late. It’s quiet. 

At times, if she’s being honest, it’s mundane. 

Hayley sends back, _Declan will miss debating superheroes with Landon, sorry he can’t make it this time. Looking forward to seeing you! ...and your father too, I guess._

Declan strolls in, clipboard in hand and the new waitress trailing behind. She’s leggy and blonde; a college student who never waitressed a day in her life. But, a sweet girl who at least seems eager to learn and they have been desperate for someone who can work midday shifts. 

Declan leans in to drop a kiss at Hayley’s cheek. He smells like garlic and mint. “Hate to ask ya, but could you run to that specialty market near Rousseau's? I know it’s the other side of the city, but I need a few things for the gig tomorrow night.”

He’d been picking up a lot of private chef jobs for small events. Sometimes, they ran over so late she’d sleep through his return. 

“No problem,” she shrugs. 

Declan looks over his shoulder, glancing towards the waitress. Then, quietly, he confides, “I fear I’ll be working into my break with this one. Charlie is a good kid but we...we have some things to brush up on these next few days.”

Hayley smiles. “Good luck. Just text me a list and I’ll swing back by with it when you get off. I might even offer you a ride.”

Declan cups her chin and gives it a little wiggle. “You’re a doll. Stay safe, don’t want the storm stealin’ ya away.”

She snorts and squeezes his hand before startling at a sharp clatter. She raises her brows when Charlie scurries to retrieve a dropped tray of bread. Declan closes his eyes and sighs.

*

Hayley steps out of the market, arms loaded with bags. Wind howls and whips, rain pelts. She’s soaked and a block away from where she parked. Patrons scurry into stores and towards their vehicles. There’s a wall of traffic leading to where she had to leave her car -it’ll be a bitch getting to it without further soaking the paper bags of groceries. She, of course, misjudged the weather radar and how long it would take her in the overpriced market to locate things called ‘anardana’ and ‘chanterelles’. 

“Does the lady need assistance?”

Hayley turns towards the familiar voice. Klaus stands with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and his car keys dangling from his fingers. He must have grabbed Hope’s favorite merlot for their dinner tomorrow. She can’t help but smile. It’s been almost six months since she last saw him.

“My hero,” she says with a slow blink. She hadn’t known she missed his face until looking up into it now.

He smiles back in that rare and gentle way, nodding towards the street. “That’s me, there.” 

He pops open the trunk and they load up the groceries before slipping into his luxury SUV. It smells like leather and his vintage cologne; crisp and musky-sweet. Hayley wipes the rain from her face and shivers. He cranks up the heat as they pull into traffic, earning a few horn bleeps. Soft classical music plays from his stereo. It reminds her of when she was hugely pregnant and would lay on that old couch in the parlor while Klaus and Elijah sipped scotches and thumbed through books, this very music trilling in the background. 

He turns it down. “And where are you parked?”

“Just up th-…” she notices the ambulance lights and cop cars blocking the way. A wreck. She sighs, “damn. Mind a little company for a bit?”

“Not at all,” he murmurs quietly, flicking on the blinker and taking a different route towards where she once called home. 

*

He helps her bring her bags inside, their steps echoing on wet stone and tracking in watery footprints along the dusty hardwoods. It smells the same; smoky fireplaces and antique furniture. An old library sort of scent. Feels the same too; like Elijah reading the newspaper aloud in the morning over coffee; Klaus playing with Hope’s little toes on the rug in front of the fire; Freya stroking her back like a mother after The Hollow tore everyone away. She loves it still. It’s her first real home, no matter the dark times the family endured there -they had endured it together. 

She follows him into the kitchen, fighting the urge to swipe his neck free of the rain droplets that cling to his ageless skin. The room’s a mess. She arches a brow as he starts unloading her bags into the empty fridge. 

“Forget to compel the help to return?”

He slips a rack of lamb onto the middle shelf. “I didn’t like the way she hummed while she worked.” Standing and digging around for the next refrigerated item, he adds solemnly, “I needed solitude.”

Hayley crosses her arms, then quickly uncrosses them, peeling the drenched fabric from her skin. She’s sopping wet and dripping all over his floor. He turns after unloading the last of her things. Leans against the counter. Surveys her with pursed lips and pensive eyes. He idly runs a hand over his own damp hair. “I’ll gather a change of clothes. There’s bourbon in the parlor, the kind you like.” 

She nods, murmuring her thanks. When he disappears towards the bedrooms, she ventures into the parlor. It’s also a disaster. Only, it’s just piles and piles of books and old canvas paintings. Almost floor to ceiling in some corners, Hayley lets out a slow breath. What in the hell had he been doing here all alone? Maybe she should have checked in more.

When he returns, she’s back in the kitchen, scrubbing at a plate with a full glass of whiskey in hand. She sips and nods appreciatively when he holds up a shirt.

He says as he hands it to her, “I was hopeful Freya or Hope had left something behind for you to wear. Alas, all I have to offer is a shirt of my own”. Then holding out another garment, he grins, “boxer shorts if you’re opposed to traipsing around pantless.”

“Anything is better than feeling like a wet rag. Thank you,” she adds, putting the cleaned plate into a bare cabinet. She dries her hands on the dish towel, breezing by him towards the bathroom to change.

Hayley surveys herself in the tall mirror after hanging her wet clothes over the tub. His shirt hung snuggly over her chest and draped loosely past her navel. The boxers had to be rolled a few times, even then they still slipped past her narrow hips. She shrugs at her reflection, using her fingers to comb out the tangled tendrils. 

He glances up as she treads barefoot and toweled off into the parlor. He’s standing at a pile of books, leafing through a brittle bound novel, the hearth glowing with a small fire. He’s refilled her glass, it’s waiting for her next to the only seat not covered in books. She drapes over the velvet chaise, letting out a satisfied sigh, propping the glass on her belly. She touches her cheek, memories of this home flooding in. She remembers Elijah buried between her thighs on this exact seat. 

She shakes her head of the image; clears her throat. “So. Do I need to ask or are you going to tell me what in the hell happened here?” She does a wide-eyed sweep with her gaze around the cluttered room for effect.

A smile tugs at his lips. He clasps the book shut one-handed and plucks up another. “Every decade or so I do a little purging. A lot of these were Elijah’s and I’m afraid to say we haven’t always agreed on literature. I’m making room for... new chapters in life.” He waggles his brows because he knows she love-hates a good pun. She tosses him an appreciative smirk.

Hayley tucks her feet under her and swallows another sip. It’s delicious and there’s nothing else like it anywhere. The Mikaelsons keep the best supply. She watches him toss a few books aside, muttering things like _rubbish_ and _idiocy_ , nearly knocking over a nearby pile. The alcohol covers her like a blanket and she’s relaxed. It feels like old times when they stole moments like these between the chaos. He’s got to be lonely with all of these empty rooms full of memories.

She bites her lip, studying his intense expression. “Are you alright here, Klaus?”

He looks up with only his eyes. “Yes. Hayley. I’m quite alright here.” He glances back down at another book, flipping until the end with a look of disdain, only to toss it carelessly with the others. He drawls, “why do you ask?”

“I worry about you,” she admits softly. Her eyes follow the slope of his nose, bumps over his full lips, drifts along his scruffy cheek. Lands on his tightened jaw. She’s irritated him. Or she’s struck a nerve. Reading Klaus Mikaelson was an art form and she was no artist. 

“Hm…” 

His only reply...she’s not surprised. 

He moves to the fireplace, poking at the snapping embers. He tosses on another log, then shuffles towards the drink cart. He approaches her with the decanter, filling her glass. She’d be drunk by the time she returned home at this rate. It was hard to say no to the warm buzz. Not when a storm rages outside and such a tedious drive awaits her. 

Klaus perches on the end of the chaise; she moves to make more room, hugging her knees to her chest. “You’re fine,” he assures lightly, placing the decanter near his feet with a clunk. He peers at her and she fights the urge to look away. She forgets how intense his attention can be. It’s the alpha in him. 

He asks, voice gruff under the burn of alcohol. “Are you feeding properly? Getting enough?”

She arches a brow. “Erm...yeah? Why?”

He leans enough to nudge her bent knees with his shoulder, replying lowly, “I worry about you too.”

She looks down; wonders if he can tell she’s lying. She doesn’t feed well. Sometimes not at all. Not since Elijah almost got her killed at the hands of Greta and she’d ripped her throat out in a gurgling rage. Elijah stepped in...tried to kill her, coldness in his familiar eyes. Klaus ripped his heart out and Roman had gotten away with a mere broken neck and death threat for if he _ever came near Hope again._

Blood bags once a day was the most she managed. She didn’t want Declan to have to be married to someone like her as it was. In truth, being just a vampire bothered her, but not nearly as much as being a hybrid disgusted those purists Elijah married into. Keeping her vampire side as muted as possible meant getting used to less of that and more of the human things. She’d gotten used to the constant hunger without her wolf side to distract her with fighting and clawing free through the bayou. Mostly.

She had even gotten used to the fact that she wasn’t a wolf, anymore. Klaus no longer calls her Little Wolf and she constantly misses it. That’s all she can face right now; can’t even think about what they did to her before Hope found her. The truth is too painful. Pain and vampirism are not complementary. Her whole life she’d been able to replace pain with action. Now she has to do it with inaction and a normal human-like life. Easier said than done.

The rain picks up and the old windows clatter under the pressure. Hayley finishes off her drink and gets up to peruse the room. He watches from the chaise, settling back and propping his legs, kicking off his boots. 

She opens a book and asks, “what are you going to do with all of the ones you don’t want?”

“Donate them I suppose.”

“And what about these?” she nods towards the old paintings propped along a wall.

He stretches his arms and laces his fingers behind his head. “Throw them away.”

She snaps her gaze onto his, “ _what_? No, you can’t do that.”

He chuckles, “well what else shall I do with them?”

Hayley shrugs, “I don’t know. I can barely draw a stick figure so it seems like a waste. See if Hope wants any of them at least.”

“Yes, dear.”

She rolls her eyes, and hides a smile, turning to look closer at the paintings. There’s one that she’s drawn to. 

Her phone rings shrilly from where she left it on the chaise, pulling away her attention. Klaus plucks it up and tosses it to her and she answers quickly. Turning back to the painting, Declan tells her to stay put after she explains where she landed after the market.

She hangs up and turns back to Klaus. “Declan’s grabbing a ride home from Charlie. I’m going to wait it out here a little longer if that’s okay with you?”

He nods. “Who is Charlie?”

“A waitress from the restaurant.”

“Oh...a pretty waitress offering her services to your husband?”

Hayley rolls her eyes, “I didn’t say she was pretty.”

“But she is, isn’t she…” he teases.

Hayley internally bristles but fights to contain it. Klaus doesn’t know about her newfound insecurities. Things feel different without her wolf side. Vampirism brought out things she didn’t know she had buried underneath. Years of unhealed trauma she hadn’t had time to deal with until now. If he realized, he would never poke. He’s an ass, but he cares. 

She replies lightly, “It’s no different than you offering me those same services. Are you saying Declan should be worried about your chivalry?”

“Are you calling me pretty?”

Hayley lets out a laugh, she can’t help it, he’s annoyingly funny. Then, pointing to the painting she asks, “can I have this one?”

“You can have anything in this room that you want, love.” The way he says it… 

She shakes her head with a small smile. He loves to flirt now that Elijah’s gone and she’s married. It’s because it’s safe. It’s because it makes her uncomfortable and he finds joy in stupid things like that. It’s the dynamic they used to share before Hope. Before Elijah. Just the wolf girl and a charming monster who paints the beautiful and the disturbing. 

“Anything, huh?” She asks wryly, tossing her phone back at him. “Then I think I’ll keep these boxers.”

“They look better on you anyway.”

She peers at him over her glass. “Duh.”

He grins. 


	2. Chapter 2

*

[ t w o ]

*

Declan is freshly showered when Hayley enters through the garage like a mule under all of the bags. 

“Ah, thank you sweets.” He grabs the bags from her aching arms and continues, “I’m so sorry I sent ya out in this mess. I’m surprised I made it home in one piece myself. Charlie drives much like she waits tables…”

Hayley smiles and drops a kiss on his shoulder as she heads down the hall towards their room. He trails behind, with Coriander lovingly tucked in his arms. 

“And Klaus? How’s the old lad doin’? He’s eager to see Hope I bet.”

She pulls a towel out of the cabinet. “Same as always. House is a mess -he’s doing some spring cleaning or something.”

He pauses when she starts up the shower. “Wife, are you wearing his underwear?” 

The look on Declan’s face is hilarious. Hayley lets out a laugh and nods. Then she wrinkles her nose. “Ah, crap, I left my wet clothes hanging in his bathroom.”

He puts his hands on her hips and tugs forward. “I don’t know how I feel about you looking so adorable in another man’s unmentionables.”

“I can try yours on next,” she grins. She gives him a playful nudge and says as she strips down, “now let me shower, I feel gross.”

*

When she emerges in her nightgown, Declan is on his computer. He puts it aside and eyes her behind low settled glasses. She crawls onto his lap, stradling tightly, and he stares up at her with a lazy smile. 

“Too tired?” she asks. He pauses, staring unfocused for a moment, before shaking it away.

“Nuh-uh.” He pushes his lips against hers. “Come here,” he growls, grasping her bottom with both hands. She snickers into his mouth.

He tangles a hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head as their kisses deepen. She needs this. So much kept pent up lately. Grabbing his wrist, she pushes his palm onto her breast. He hums in appreciation, kneading and toying with her perked nipple through the thin silk. She wriggles against the growing hardness beneath her. It’s been too long. They’ve been so busy with work and life in general. She reaches down the front of his boxers and he suckles on her lower lip like she likes. 

His cell phone rings and vibrates across the nightstand. Their groans of frustration are simultaneous. He reaches over to check the screen, her hand still working him in teasing strokes. 

“I’m so sorry, I do have to take this,” he states. She watches his expression turn from relaxed to intense. It’s his work face. He slides gently out from under her. “Sorry my sweets, it’s the new clients. I will be right back.” 

He wouldn’t be. This happens a lot. Hayley tries to look anything but frustrated. She picks up her phone while Declan steps out under the awning. There’s a text waiting in her inbox. Klaus.

Her eyes skim over the words;  _ You’ve left your clothes in my bathroom. What will my girlfriend think? _

She smiles and sends back:  _ I can grab them tomorrow after dinner with Hope. Will your girlfriend be joining us or will she be busy working 5th street? _

Declan’s voice followed by a laugh carries through the closed window. She doesn’t know how he can hear over all the rain. He always uses that loud barking laugh when dealing with customers. Not nearly as endearing as his true laugh. It’s more subtle to say the least. 

Her phone buzzes and she chews on her thumbnail as she reads Klaus’s reply.  _ Are you still in my underwear? _

She rolls her eyes. Of course he ignored her hilarious burn and changed the subject. She decides to do the same. 

_ Is Hope flying in tomorrow? _

_ Indeed. Early. _

She doesn’t have time to reply before he sends her another text.  _ I’m going to get some rest. I look forward to our family dinner tomorrow. _

_ Me too. Night. _

_ Sweet dreams. You can keep the underwear. _

  
  


*

Hayley has to open the back door to let a breeze into the restaurants' kitchen. Sweat dampens her chest and her back aches from scrubbing the coolers. They have a health inspection in a few days and Declan left a detailed list to complete while he’s traveling to his gig. They’re still understaffed because of the damages the tropical storm left behind the previous day; downed trees everywhere.

“Hey, Mrs. O’Connell?” 

“Hayley,” she corrects. Again.

Charlie nods, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Right, sorry. There’s a cute couple out there asking for you.”

Hayley wipes her hands on her rag and heads through the double doors. A smile erupts on her face. Hope is beaming under Klaus’s arm and they are laughing at the bar. Hayley stops a moment to watch them; they never look happier than when they’re together. He tilts his head back to laugh and then leans in to drop a kiss on their daughter’s forehead. He notices Hayley then; shoots her a nod and nudges Hope. She turns and smiles, gesturing her over.

“Hey, you,” Hope croons during their embrace. Then pulling away she says, “oh wow, you’re sweaty. Declan have you working hard back there?” She glances around, long relaxed curls cascading over her chair, “where is he anyway?”

Hayley tugs at her damp shirt. “He’s out of town for a private chef job and has left me in charge of pre-health inspection cleaning.” Gesturing around the desolate restaurant she continues, “and we are understaffed.”

“Well why didn’t you say something, I can just do a quick spell and -”

_ CRASH _

Hayley closes her eyes and wills herself to maintain human-level calmness.Then, exchanging a look with Klaus and Hope, she calls out, “Charlie?”

Klaus smiles knowingly, “Oh,  _ Char _ lie...Declan’s helpful waitress.”

The smell of blood slams her like a fist...beckons her like a demon...scurries up her spine. She feels the veins bulging, burning, yanking. The hunger is raw; primal. Before she can even blink, she’s being wooshed and feels her back slam against a wall.She blinks rapidly, the clawing thirst lessening...but barely. 

“Look at me…” Klaus murmurs.

Hayley obeys. He looks shocked.

“Oh Hayley…”, he breathes, “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

She tries to push away but he holds her firmly in place, his forearm pressed into her collarbone. She winces. His brows are so furrowed they wrinkle the bridge of his nose.

Hope’s voice carries from the hallway, “Dad, going to need you.”

He releases Hayley, pointing under her nose, “stay here.” 

As soon as the door swings shut Hayley slides to the floor. She buries her face in her hands. Her mind flies through the talk Klaus will surely demand to have later. And, god, Hope will have concerns too. Hayley had skipped her blood this morning while Declan was getting ready to leave. She didn’t like dealing with it in front of him so she figured she’d just grab a bag on the way to family dinner tonight. 

She would just have to lie and minimize. Hayley simply isn’t ready to face it all…to admit it all. Facing all of these buried weaknesses and flaws as a vampire is fucking horrible. She hates it. It’s everything she’s strived  _ not _ to be. She wasn’t one of those girls who let shit get to her; not ever. 

It feels like forever before Hope enters the bathroom tentatively. She wets a paper towel at the sink and squats down, dabbing at Hayley’s brow. “You’re so flushed,” Hope says. “Dad gave Charlie some of his blood and compelled her to forget about him super-speeding you into the bathroom.” 

Hayley gently brushes Hope’s efforts away, standing unsteadily. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to feed this morning and thought I could push it for a while. I was wrong.” She glances up to see Klaus hovering in the doorway.

He definitely doesn’t believe a word she’s saying.

*

Hope’s voice carries from the dining hall of the abattoir. The smell of dinner fills the courtyard and beckons her towards flickering candlelight. Klaus is sitting at the head of the table, wine glass in hand and body relaxed against his wingback chair. 

He drawls, “you’re late.”

Hayley plops down in her seat to his right, shooting a smile at Hope. “Fashionably. Look how great my hair looks.” She’s joking of course. It’s still finger-raked back into an unruly ponytail. She is, however, extremely well fed and rosy-cheeked with two blood bags and a shot of whiskey before she came over -the euphoria is stronger than she’s used to. 

Klaus is staring at her over his wine, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Hope clears her throat softly and reaches over to pull the lid off of a platter of steaming vegetables and slivers of meat. Hayley doesn’t feel like eating a bite, but pretends that it smells amazing, eagerly accepting a portion on her plate.

“So,” Hope says brightly, serving Klaus next, “what’s new with you two?”

Klaus stares at Hayley, giving her a clear opening to answer first. She gulps at her wine, pretending to relish in a bite of vegetables. “Not much. Declan is taking on all these extra private chef jobs after that celebrity client promoted him on social media. The restaurant is doing great but we are in the middle of finding new staff after so many moved out of the city recently.”

She feels Klaus’s eyes boring into her but she refuses to glance his way. She cuts her meat, stomach rolling at the smell. All she wants is more blood. A lot more. Can he scent that? Can he see it?

He asks sharply, “but what’s new with  _ you _ , Hayley? All you’ve done is explain your husband’s life.”

Hope shoots him a look and murmurs, “Dad…”

Hayley lets her fork drop to the plate with a clatter. She says evenly, “I spend a lot of time working at the restaurant which is actually my job, so…”

Ignoring Hope’s glare and Hayley’s flashing eyes, Klaus says with head cocked, “it seems you’re so busy with your job that you’ve forgotten to take care of your...needs.”

“My needs are none of your concern.”

“Ah, and who is it you will call when chef Declan chops into his hand or another waitress tries to juggle with glassware? Who is it you will ask for help after you’ve drained your husband because you just didn’t have it in you to stop?”

Hope folds her arms and grumbles, “I didn’t come here to listen to you two fight…” Then, turning to Hayley she says softly, “I’m sure there’s a good reason for why you’ve gotten behind on feeding?”

Hayley feels her face burning. All that blood she downed before dinner is rushing to her cheeks. Klaus’s accusing stare softens. He looks down at his plate. Sighing, he states, “I know you don’t like it, but your needs are my concern, Little Wolf.”

The term of endearment triggers her. It slams her. She pushes out of her chair, knocking it over, stalking out of the room. The bathroom door swings with a thud and out of habit, she locks it -as if that would keep a Mikaelson witch or hybrid from getting in… She slides down the wall and buries her face in her hands.  _ Weak. So weak _ . She hates being weak. But, there was no control. Who she wants to be is different than who she seems to be now. Anxious when she used to be a  _ take it as it comes and then kick its ass _ kind of girl. Responsible when now she drinks too much alcohol and works herself hard so she doesn’t have to deal with the intrusive thoughts and memories. She starves out the broken parts, believing they’ll just go away.

There’s a lot of yelling between Klaus and Hope before there’s silence again. The ringing in Hayley’s ears makes it hard to understand any of it, but she assumes Hope storms out. Rarely did Hope stay and fight her father anymore because she knows she can win if only she’s brutal enough. Their daughter was anything but brutal. Sharp, relentless, cunning -but never brutal.

A soft rap on the door brings Hayley’s wet eyes from her shaking hands. She knows she should open it; save the door from unnecessary damage. But...she just can’t move. She’s numb. Like always, when the memories or circumstances flood her...she’s no longer the Hayley that can handle it with a cool and collected mind. Now, she’s just a jumble of thoughts and a sweating, shaking, horrible mess. It’s embarrassing, is what it is. Disappointing. It fucking sucks.

The doorknob snaps, wood splinters. She watches his boots approach on the checkered tile floor. They stop in front of her. He squats down, grasps her chin, and forces her to look into his eyes. He looks like a blurry painting. She wonders if he’ll compel her to tell him everything or appeal to her soul first. Maybe he’ll stroke her face and then snap her neck so he can throw her in a dungeon until she confesses it all or straightens out. Maybe he’ll force feed her for months before returning her to her life...compel Declan to think she’s on holiday with Hope. 

“Do you know why I live in this house all alone, Hayley?”

She winces at how hoarse his voice is. He’s rarely emotional around her. Not like this, anyway. She shakes her head and he releases her chin. Dropping his hand, he continues, “when I was much younger and the nightmares occurred...the flashbacks and nasty triggers...I had Elijah. The memory of torture inflicted at my father’s hand, made far worse under the vampire’s curse; I--”, his voice broke. “I would not have made it through without someone I trusted to see my weaknesses- to remind me why I was strong.”

Hayley feels the tears spill over; feels the shadows circling. She wants to run. Hide. 

Klaus blinks and wets his lips. “We both know Elijah would be better suited for your struggles. But he is gone and I am not.” He puts his hands on her shoulders, gripping tight. “Feed properly or you  _ will _ harm someone.” 

She thinks about the cold blade sawing at her skin; the sound her flesh made as it was peeled from her back. She chokes out, “was it you they sent it to?”

He knows exactly what she’s referring to; sees it in his eyes. “Yes.” His throat bobs under a thick swallow. “And I saw the room in which you were first held. The spiked chains. The smell of wolfsbane and fear. Your blood...everywhere.”

She gnaws at her lip. He’s right. He’s ancient, experienced, and knows the difference between being a wolf, hybrid, and just a vampire. None of which are easy. All of which exasperate unhealed trauma. Logically, she knows this. She’s stubborn and she knows it.

“Okay,” she nods, finding her voice, “I’ll do better.”

He stares too long. The eye contact makes her uncomfortable. She swallows and adds tentatively, “I’ll be honest from now on when I’m struggling.” She’s lying. She doesn’t know how to do that any more than he does. They are, as Elijah often noted, alike in many ways. 

“Very well,” he murmurs.


	3. Chapter 3

*

[ t h r e e ]

*

“Aye, look, another one.” Declan points to the sky. A streak of stardust is all it is, but for Declan a meteor shower is fascinating. She glances up at his boyish grin. He’s adorable -she’s always been a sucker for adorable. Guilt twists her gut at how much she hides from him now. The extra feedings and vampire instincts intruding even on their most intimate moments. Klaus had been right; she had made it all worse by denying her basic vampiric needs for so long.

Declan wraps his arms around her and kisses her temple, a blissful sigh releasing against her skin. They are cuddled up on the deck, half way into a wine bottle. Hayley’s mind drifts to Hope. It’s been days since their family dinner. Her daughter has been distant ever since. Texts less and shorter, uses things like the meteor shower as an excuse for being too busy as a witchcraft teacher at school to call. 

Declan’s fingers drift under her shirt. Hayley’s blood schedule and his lighter workload had resulted in a  _ lot _ of reconnecting. Tonight, however, she’s consumed with worry and guilt over Hope. 

His phone rings and he grunts. Shifting beneath her to pull it free from his pocket, he takes the call, tickling under her chin like a promise to return. She watches him walk towards the pool, expression intense.

Hayley pulls her own phone out. She’d been checking in with Klaus every so often, but hadn’t gone to see him or has even called him since their conversation from his bathroom floor. Honestly, she’s still embarrassed. She’s not sure why, really. He, more than anyone, understands the struggle of dealing with a heightened response to something so...degrading and traumatic. And he didn’t even know the whole story. She refused to acknowledge some of the hideous acts even now. Though...it never left her. Not really. Just like all the shit she  _ thought _ she had moved past and healed from before losing her wolf: like the pain of losing her adoptive parents to the triggered werewolf gene; like never quite fitting into a family since her parents were slain; like watching Jackson’s heart pulse outside of his body, eyes going blank. 

_ You up? _ She sends.

_ I am. _

Hayley takes the phone inside, along with her full wine glass. She shuts herself into their study and sinks into the plush loveseat. Dialing Klaus for a video call, Hayley feels her heart thump in anticipation. Still, she can’t figure out why she feels so ridiculous about letting him into this part of herself. It must be that she never let anyone into these spaces. She had even kept Elijah somewhat outside of her most painful parts. She never told him much about that first night her parents had kicked her out with nothing but a backpack of what she could blindly stuff into it. How she slept on pine needles and ate discarded food in the mall’s overflowing trash bins the days her old school friends stopped helping. That first Christmas alone. 

Klaus’s face appears and a small smile pulls at his full lips. “Well, hello,” he drawls.

She can’t help but smile; ducks her head and busies herself with pulling cat hair off the arm of the couch. Softly, she replies, “have you heard from Hope?”

“No,” he sighs, “I believe she’s still angry with some of the words we exchanged.” He touches his chin, tapping lightly. “She doesn’t like being told she can’t take over during a crisis.”

Hayley bristles at being referred to as such, but says lightly, “I wonder who she gets that from…”

He quirks a brow. “The both of us, dear.”

She smirks and shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Silence settles and they are awkwardly staring at one another. Hayley blinks and takes another gulp of wine, wondering if she should tell him about the overpowering blood cravings or nightmares.

He clears his throat, “I was going through some more in the parlor and found several old french cookbooks. I thought Declan would enjoy having them.”

“Yeah, he’d love that. Thanks.”

“Perhaps you could come over to retrieve them. Say, ...tomorrow?”

Hayley feels herself nodding even though her gut clenches. She doesn’t want to talk about what happened to her. Ever. She’s decided that. But she’s not stupid, she knows as well as he that he could drop the books directly to Declan at the restaurant. The only reason he’d have for inviting her over would be to address what they have yet to address.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hayley.”

She swallows hard. “Yeah, see you.”

*

Klaus ushers her into the parlor and she glances around. The scent strikes her first. He’s definitely been with someone fairly recently. Her eyes drift to the chaise, imagining some tourist splayed out on its velvety covering. Hayley shakes her head of the image. She can only smell it because she’s had more than her usual amount of blood this morning. It’s amazing what it’s doing to her senses. 

“How’s it coming along in here?” she asks, raking a hand through her tangled hair. It’s a windy morning and she’d walked a block to get here. She perches on the edge of a desk that used to be in Freya’s room. 

“Unless Elijah miraculously procures his memories and finds his books on the brink of donation, I do believe I will have my parlor back by the end of the week. I have several interested parties coming out for a pick up.”

She hums in response, crossing her ankles. He nods towards a stack near the painting she’d been eying last time she was in here. “There’s the cookbooks. And if you still want that piece.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He clears his throat, shuffling towards the large painting of crimson and raven black, a silhouette blended into the dark swirls. “Do you want to know the story behind it?” She nods. He continues, “It’s from the twenties. Caroline’s late husband, once like a brother to me -you’ve heard the stories I’m sure. A true ripper. This is something I painted as I watched him spiral uncontrollably. At the time, I admired the monstrosity of it. But as I painted, it revealed I was bothered by the insatiable hunger his curse burdened him with.” 

She feels her heart thump deeper. His eyes turn to hers. “Interesting you would choose it out of all the others.”

Hayley looks down. Maybe she’d let him throw it away after all.

Klaus sighs softly. Says gently, “might I suggest something?” She shrugs. He tilts his head, folds his arms, “it helps to let it in after one feeds, not before. Feed, then process. And process it you must.”

Hayley stiffens. He adds, “you tried it alone and now you will try it with me.” She sits up straighter when he bites into his palm and hovers under her lips. “Go on, love. Just a taste. It’s strong enough.”

She whispers, breath gathering hot between her mouth and his dripping palm, “I don’t think this is...right.” This feels like a mistake. 

“It’s right. It once worked for me. Quite well.”

Hayley imagines Elijah’s palm pressed to Klaus’s mouth. Their brotherly bond forging deeper than she’d realized. She feels her eyes underneath throb; a burning tickle. Blood sharing was often, as most knew, a sexual endeavor. But, it doesn’t have to be. She licks her protruding fangs. It won’t be. This is Klaus. He’s her partner for Hope. He’s just Klaus. They’ve already slept together, never had an urge to do it again. He’s a father and a brother and a partner. He smells heavenly. 

Her tongue tests the wound; tentatively sweeping a taste of beading warmth. She swears she hears his breath hitch. But he’s still, so still. Her fangs bury into his palm and there’s a low vibration in the back of his throat. Her fingers wrap around his wrist and her eyes flutter shut. Nothing in the world exists except the coppery flow of his... _ insanely _ strong blood. She feels like she could do anything. A strength, a wave of happiness, it’s consuming. Two gulps, maybe three. She wants a thousand. She wants to live here, right here. 

“Alright, love,” he whispers. She obeys, dizzily unlatching and breathing heavily through soaked and parted lips. He urges, barely giving her a moment to process the waves of euphoria, “tell me now. Tell me anything at all.”

Her chest clenches and she hears herself say in a slurred and hoarse way, “I’m not a wolf anymore. Through everything, at least I always had that. Something I conquered and owned. There’s something beautiful about breaking your own bones and running free of humanly problems under the moon. I crave it. More than the blood. The blood makes me forget, makes me bury things, but the blood runs out. Work stops daily. I can’t deal with the parts that are still and silent. The only thing that fills it is...” She shudders at the creeping memories.

Klaus edges closer than before. Stops so close their knees are touching. He smells familiar; like Hope and home. Musky-sweet. Rain and salt. Like wolves smell. Usually unpleasant to a vampire, but it washes over her like the lapping sea. He’s brushing her hair from her face. Strokes her neck with his knuckles. It’s too familiar. Intimate. But she doesn’t stop him because it’s exactly what she needs.

She asks what she’s always been afraid of asking. “Did you find them all? Kill them all?” She thinks of their faces; Greta’s purist minions...taunting voices...rough hands…vulgar tongues when she was too weak to stop it from happening. Her stomach twists. His ambient blood soothes.

His voice sounds like a caress. “I saved one in particular for you, sweetheart. For when you’re ready.” 

She wonders how he knew. She wonders  _ if  _ he knew.

  
  


*

Hayley sits dazed in her car outside of the restaurant. The backseat is loaded with the old cookbooks and painting, filling her nose with the musky scent of the abattoir. Her heart is lighter, though guilt trickles in. What happened in the span of just a moment, seems to her now like forever. Klaus’s blood left her buzzing with him. Her thoughts swirl around his tone, his words, his scent, his everything. 

She shakes her head. It’s just what feeding from an original does. It’ll expire. Just like all feedings do. It was intimate but nothing to be ashamed of keeping to herself. It’s just a familial bond made stronger. And she  _ does _ feel better. Much. Lighter, even. This vampire stuff will always be separate from her life with Declan; it has to be.

After checking her reflection in the mirror she brings an armload of books into  _ Camille’s _ alleyway entrance. Declan is chopping vegetables, shirt sleeves rolled up over his toned forceps. Charlie’s laughing at something he said and reaches over him to pop a piece of cucumber in her mouth. She notices Hayley first.

“Oh, hey Mrs. O'Connell,” she smiles, crunching loudly.

Declan glances up and brightens. “Ah, sweets, I was just about to call ya. What do ya have there?”

Hayley sets the books on the side table, blowing a strand of hair from her face. “Old French cookbooks Klaus thought you’d want.”

Declan dries his hands on his apron and leafs through several, excitedly reciting the titles and a few ingredients in his impeccable French accent. 

“They’re lovely, we’ll have to send him a bottle of something as a thank you.” 

The front door’s antique bell dinged and Charlie scurried away to greet the customers. Hayley feels warm, tingling with Klaus’s blood. She smells the sweat on Declan’s skin; eyes his lips.

Smiling coyly she catches his gaze. He quirks a brow. She goes to kiss him, leading him towards the storage closet for the third time this week. The blood has hit her hard in ways she hadn’t anticipated. 

Just as Declan’s hand wraps around the door handle, Charlie calls, “Hey Deck? There’s a question from a customer.”

Hayley furrows her brows and mutters, “ _ Deck _ ?”

He sighs and cups her chin. “Tonight?”

Hayley nods, irritation blooming even under the delicious blanket of original blood. “Yeah. Fine.” She watches him walk away, then turns to the pile of dishes waiting for her. She scrubs at a pan and finds her mind drifting to images of the kill Klaus saved for her. The face she hopes it will be...knows it will be. She smiles.

*

Hayley keeps thinking of Klaus. She wants to drink from him again, talk again, taste it all again. Not in a lusting sort of way, but in that way that a really good dream hits you. Where you wake up feeling elated and like you’ve been somewhere new and special. Like you’ve lived a whole other lifetime in places you can’t reach in the waking world. It’s just yours. 

She dips her toes into the pool, making ripples and sipping on her wine. Hope called earlier that day, just to say hello. It was brief and detached, but Hayley was able to convince her she was improving. And she has been. She’s got something her old self can look forward to now. When she’s not thinking about Klaus’s blood-therapy, she’s fantasizing about the ways she’ll take her kill. Ideally, she’d love to grow wolf claws to slash and spill his innards; bite him with a wolf’s venom; rip limbs with bare hands for him to watch decay in a tiny room as he grew new ones. 

Declan’s warm hand on her back barely registers. She smells the beer and it tugs her out of her fantasy world. He’s staring up at the night sky, thumb running circles between her shoulder blades. 

“I love you,” he rasps.

She leans against him. “I love you too.” 

“But…”

She sits up, faces him quickly. Quirks a brow. “There’s a but?”

“I’m worried there’s something you aren’t telling me…” He trails off, peering at her. Hayley’s heart picks up. Her thoughts fly through a rolodex of all of her hidden memories. He adds, “...about Hope. Is everything alright? You’ve been calling and visiting with Klaus a lot more and Hope hasn’t been as present.”

“Oh,” she coughs on her caught breath. “She’s okay. Busy and she...got into a little disagreement with Klaus. But they are...okay.”

He relaxes and nods. “Good. I know I’m not as available with all the extra work. But I want you to know I’m trying to make sure you’re always number one.”

Hayley smiles thinly, an uncomfortable twinge of guilt tickling her chest. “I don’t have to be number one. I...don’t want to be. I mean, I appreciate that, but-”

He rolls his eyes with a playful grin, “you are adorably uncomfortable with this sort of thing. A wife should always come first and whether you want that or not, it’s what I strive for, sweets.”

The guilt grows. She should reciprocate or say...something. But, right now, the only thing she wants is to kill the man who bent her over a filthy bathroom sink and mimicked her cries of pain. More than that, she wants to make him suffer far longer than a quick stab through the heart. She’d lost a lot more than her wolf because of the actions of him and his people. 

Love, marriage, forgiveness, jobs -all the human things she signed up for and wants to enjoy. They come second now. 

  
  


*

It takes Hayley only two weeks to give in and visit Klaus. She brings him a bottle of good wine as a thank you from Declan for the cookbooks. Klaus takes her jacket, fingers brushing her neck. There’s jazz music from a street festival that drifts through his open balcony windows.

He opens the wine, pouring them each a glass. He directs her to the balcony off of the guest room. It was Kol’s room once. Then hers. Now it sits still with a neatly made bed and empty wardrobe. 

“Beautiful day,” he remarks, clinking his glass against hers. They take their first sip. It’s delicious wine; Declan’s favorite to pair with salmon. She swallows with ease and relaxes into the warm breeze.

Klaus sits on the decorative bench she used to read on when she first moved in with a growing pregnant belly. He gestures for her to join. 

Taking a seat, she asks, “did you get the parlor cleaned out?”

“Oh, yes. I find myself quite bored now.”

“Me too,” she blurts out. She winces. His eyes are on her face, she can feel them as she sips at her wine. 

He asks, setting his empty glass beside the bench, “how are you feeling since...our last visit?”

She busies her lips with the wine glass, practically gulping down the rest of it. She can’t say much without sounding insane. Obsessed? Constantly thinking about what joy will come from killing that man. Constantly replaying what Klaus’s blood felt like thrumming in her veins. Imagining what it would be like if she drank and talked some more...if she were able to get it all out and never look back.

Klaus takes the wine glass out of her hand and stands, retreating silently into the house. Hayley chews on her thumbnail, unsure what she’s even doing here. She could have just left him the wine and gone back into work. It’s not like she’s really planning on ever feeding from him again, no matter that it had relieved her of...so  _ much _ . What she really needs is to find out where the man is so that she can kill him.

He returns with her glass full and a bottle from his own collection. Seems he has plans to drink a lot more. Meaning he plans to talk for a while. Maybe he’s curious or maybe he’s concerned; either way she’s feeling clammy with anticipation.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, sitting closer this time. Their knees touch and he drapes an arm behind her on the bench. If she leans slightly to the right, she’d be nestled against him. Hayley shakes her head of the thought. A pointless, anxious thought. He continues, “what has your heart flying all over the place?”

She looks away, wind pushing strands of hair over her chin and neck. He reaches out to tuck them away, using the motion to gently turn her chin towards him. Bold move and she fights the urge to tell him so. He’s being a little too intimate, she needs to just tell him what’s on her mind.

“I want the kill. I’m ready.”

“Ah…” he nods, dropping his hand. “Of course you do, love. And you shall have it. But there is a small course of action I’ll have to take before the kill is yours.”

She plays with the hem of her shorts. “Yeah, what’s that?” 

“I made a deal.” He looks away then. Clearly uncomfortable; jaw clenching and unclenching. Turning back, he licks his lips. “With Antoinette.”

Hayley bristles. “What sort of deal?” Anger pushes her lungs. Klaus is an original and has never been known to bow to anyone or waste time on deals. Why now? Why with this of all things?

“That if she holds the prisoner until I asked, I’d arrange a meeting between you and her.”

“Why the hell did you hand over the prisoner to begin with?”

“Allow me to explain in a different way. I made the deal. I asked her to keep the prisoner in France because I did not trust myself to leave the kill for you...for when you were ready.”

“And you don’t know what she wants to speak with me about?”

“Not with any certainty but I have some ideas.”

Hayley folds her arms. Crosses and uncrosses her legs. Roughly runs a hand over her wind-tousled hair. “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll meet with her. But...I don’t want to see him.”

His fingers idly tap along the bench; chews his lower lip in thought. “I’ll arrange for her and the prisoner’s arrival as soon as I’m sure.”

“Um, about…?”

He gestures in the air, frustration budding in his words. “Your grasp on your vampirism. Your state of mind. They wouldn’t want me allowing you to flip your humanity switch or deciding to permanently walk on the dark side.”

“They, meaning Hope and Elijah?”

“All of them. Our entire family. You’re one of the best of us and I intend to keep you that way.” He bites into his palm and pushes it against her mouth. She jolts in surprise, lips opening and fangs plucking through her gums. She has zero control of that part. She could back away, it’s in her power to do so, but she wants it too bad. So she takes it. 

His breath hitches. Softer, he states, “we need to keep your humanity intact throughout this. It will be so easy to lose it along the way. The blood, the loss, the kill. It’s a dangerous game. But one I know you need to conquer.”

Hayley nips and sucks and laps and swallows; his other hand is stroking the back of her head, smoothing her hair. A part of her hates it. The other part… she wriggles closer.

“There you go, sweetheart, take everything you need. Because when you’re brimming with me, I need you to unburden it all. Not a detail left behind…”

*

It’s over an hour before she’s finished spilling the entire torturous experience. She’s able to do it without shedding a tear, courtesy of potent Original blood. She even cracked a few jokes over the worst parts -kinda morbid and weird but she felt elated in the moments between expressing the horrible memories. Klaus sat so still, blinking rapidly at times. Looking down and shutting his eyes at others.

It feels so good. So light. She feels empty of the pain. For now. She knows the blood will run out and it will all creep back in with a real heaviness. But not as bad. Not with the promise of a kill and the support of her daughter’s father dangling like a carrot.

“Thank you for this,” she adds into the stretch of silence.

He looks up, sadness in his eyes. She hates it. There’s nothing to be sad about -they won. She’d have her vengeance after all. Life can be shitty and it’s been dragging her down. But no more. 

“One more thing,” he says. 

She looks at her phone. “I’ve really gotta go, I can’t believe how long I’ve been over here.”

She breezes by him towards the coat rack. His hand shoots out and grabs her arm -tight. She freezes like stricken prey, like the moths Coriander traps under her paws. 

He’s standing now. So close; feels his breath on her cheek. The blood -his blood- seems to call out to him…beckon him. Her skin tingles and hums under his grasp. Why is she breathing like that?

“That was the last time you feed from me. Next, we will try another source.”

She doesn’t want it to be her last -doesn’t know why. 

She snaps, unable to cool her temper, “ _ why _ ? It’s been helping.”

Klaus inches his face even closer and states plainly; lowly, “you know why. Let us be sure you can handle using tourist blood to soothe the wounded vampire in you.”

Hayley snatches her arm away. “I’m not  _ wounded _ . I feel better and when I dismember that asshole, I’ll be better than ever.”

Their faces so close she nearly goes cross eyed looking at him, he retorts, “you don’t yet understand, do you? You think it’s by choice vampires go dark and struggle with their inner demons even after  _ centuries _ of working through them?”

“It’s like that story we’re all told. We all have good and bad in us. The side that wins is the side you feed.”

He cocks his head, nose brushing hers. “Is that why you were starving your blood thirst? You think that’s the way that old  _ wolves tale _ works?”

She’s angry. Livid. But his blood mixes and amplifies the way her body responds to his closeness. His lecturing tone and her need to put him in his place...his lips like velvet near the corner of her mouth. 

She has to close her eyes, calm the tremors rolling through her bones, tensing her muscles. 

Klaus whispers, his breath a tickle in her ear, “pain is forever now, sweetheart.” It’s menacing, his tone. And also it licks at her belly. Flushes her skin. She wants to vomit his blood all over his pretty parlor and never look back. She also wants to bite his lip and claw at his back. The conflicting response is infuriating.

“I can handle being a vampire without all this bullshit. Let me know when Antoinette has arrived with the prisoner.” She knows that could be weeks. Months, even. 

He steps back; three dramatically cocky steps. A smirk transforms his face into something she wants to punch. 

He tilts his head. “Yes, dear.”

* * *

Author's Notes: Will update sometime tomorrow. Stay home, stay safe. Hope this helps ease the craziness going on in the world. It's helping me keep my mind elsewhere :)


	4. Chapter 4

*

[ f o u r ]

*

Hayley dreams of Klaus nightly. Weeks go by and she can’t shake him. Maybe it’s knowing his blood isn’t an option to work with anymore -the fear of him being right wrecking her sleep. 

Set on understanding his cryptic meaning behind a  _ vampire’s pain is forever _ , she talked to the only vampire she knew outside of the Mikaelson circle who would be straight forward with her. And, well, she wanted to see her daughter.

Caroline smiles, nudging a beer she ordered for her across the table. The blonde headmaster has a fruity drink with a row of cherries skewered on a toothpick. Hayley hides a smirk at the realization the woman still thinks of her as a  _ guys girl _ rather than a manicured girly-drink gal pal. 

“So,” Caroline chirps, crimson painted lips leaving a mark around her straw. “Since this isn’t about Hope, I have to admit I was a little surprised to hear from you.”

“Speaking of, do you know why Hope isn’t here?”

She blinks several times. “Uh, no, I’m sorry, she just told Ric that she was going to visit her uncle.”

Hayley relaxes. Of course she did. She always sought out Kol when she had a spat with her father. Though, usually, he was good about reaching out to let Hayley know he had it handled. She’d text him later for an update.

Hayley takes a gulp of beer, pretending to like it. As a young wolf she could share a six pack with a buddy and be happy. As an adult vampire adopted by a thousand year old family, she tended to veer towards dark whiskey and aged wine. 

Caroline’s bracelets jingle as she reaches across the table to touch Hayley’s hand. With genuine concern she asks, “is everything okay with Klaus? Is he...being difficult or something?”

“Klaus is Klaus,” Hayley shrugs. “He…” she clears her throat and searches for a way to approach this. Looking up into her kind eyes, “I need help understanding vampirism. Certain aspects of it, I mean. And Klaus’s methods are…”

“Ah, yeah, totally get it. Are you having trouble feeding, with urges, nightmares, insomnia? We have excellent resources at the school for newly turned vampires.”

“No, I mean, I dealt with all that as a hybrid too.”

“Right, right, sorry, I didn’t mean to assume you don’t know by now...Uh-“

Hayley awkwardly pats the hand that still lays across her own. Caroline pulls away and tilts her head, golden curls bouncing softly. 

Hayley sighs and launches straight into it. “As you probably know, I went through some traumatic things when the purists captured me. I’ve never been one to hold onto pain or dwell on the past. But as time goes on it only gets worse, not better. So I tried neglecting the vampire side. Klaus stepped in...it helped...a lot. But then he said something I need further clarification on.”

“Okay, yeah, of course” she straightens, face morphing from sympathetic and unsure to serious and attentive. 

“When vampires turn, I know they are frozen in time...forever in a sense. But does that truly mean you can’t evolve or change from past pain?”

Caroline looks down at her drink, idly playing with the toothpick. She looks sad -maybe even teary. Hayley sinks in her seat, abandoning the overly hoppy beer. 

“We best explain it to our students like a human equivalent of a lifetime diagnosis. Like diabetes or a personality disorder; it doesn’t go away but you can learn how to manage it. The traumas you endured that left an impact on your human psyche will be enhanced by the vampire curse. And part of that curse is freezing it all in place -forever. You can grow and evolve your coping mechanisms. That’s...that’s all we can do. Was it different when you were a hybrid?”

“Yeah. I mean, a little. I guess being part of the wolves helped me cope with the loss of my life and the little pieces of humanity it steals. Being a wolf has always been a place to belong and find safety in.”

“I see. So without that, you’ve found yourself without a barrier for all the past trauma.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it really.”

Caroline is quiet as Hayley processes the realization. Klaus eased her into feeding better, and used his blood to forge a sense of safety with him so she could face the trauma as just a vampire, knowing for years she’d need to do so. It’s probably the kindest thing he’s ever done. He wants to make sure she can handle the daily pain of remembering something -some _ things _ \- that are as a part of her as a chronic ailment. He knows best because he’s been battling his own for centuries. 

Hayley rubs at her cheeks, realization flicking a wave of guilt in her chest. He’s been a monstrous person through the years. She’s even hated him before. But...he’s still Klaus underneath it all and she’s still Hayley.  _ You’re one of the best of us. I intend to keep you that way. _

Really, if the truth were a simple statement. Klaus is just a good man turned monstrous because sometimes along the way of a long immortal life, he got tired of the fight.

*

Declan is asleep on his stomach, Coriander curled against his side. Hayley should really go wash the airplane smell off, but she’s exhausted. 

She strips down to nothing and slips under the sheets, propping on an elbow to peer at his boyish face. She smiles, eyes trailing over the drool collecting beneath his squished and parted lips. 

He’d never know her struggles. He’d never understand this part of her life or what he’s truly signed up for in marrying someone like her. In a way, she feels selfish for pretending she’s a whole person. A person with normal human wants and needs. When the reality is, he sleeps aside someone who fantasizes about murder, while he’s dreaming of butterflies and the perfect cream brûlée. 

She needs and wants a life he can’t be a part of. Yet, everyone urged her to try. She thinks of Klaus the day before her wedding _.  _ He told her  _ I hope you find all the happiness in the world.  _ Yet, knowing all along she couldn’t sustain it in a human life. Hoping she could, but not believing it -because it had never worked for any of them. Not for long. 

She whispers aloud, knowing her husband could sleep through a hurricane, “in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

But she would always be both; sick and healthy, dead and alive. 

  
  


*

Klaus is sitting at the head of the long dining table. Hayley eyes the woman perched on his lap, the fang marks dripping wet down her slender neck. 

“Go ahead,” he urges, wiping his mouth with a cloth, “have some. And then I shall show you a painting I’ve found in the attic”.

She doesn’t feed on people. It’s always been blood bags and most recently, from Klaus. He knows this. He’s watching her discomfort and uncertainty. He gives the girl a gentle nudge off of his lap, chair creaking as he leans back and swirls a lazy finger in his wine glass. Hayley keeps her eyes on Klaus’s as the girl approaches, sweeping her auburn hair to the side and offering the untouched side of her neck.

“There will be times this is necessary, just as I told you years ago upon turning”. He cocks his head, urging languidly, “you remember when to stop, listen to her heart. Let it be your guide.”

She shoots him a look, snapping, “yeah, I remember how to eat.” He offers a gesture and smirk. Hayley huffs and focuses on the thrumming pulse under the girl’s skin. If the father of her child required proof she could eat responsibly so that she could murder their prisoner, she would do it. She’d do anything. She’s growing impatient.

Hayley knows it would be easier to stop if she fed from the wrist. The flow is slower there...less enticing. The neck bleeds in thick pulses. You can feel the prey’s breath, heart, and smell their fear. It’s like smelling cake on a diet or an alcoholic walking by a glowing bar sign; not a matter of  _ if  _ but  _ when _ . She wants to prove to him she can handle it -she can handle all of it. 

She allows her vampiric instincts to take over, veins prickling under her eyes. Her gums ache and heart gallops in anticipation. The girl’s neck is salty with a hint of perfume, pulse flicking against her exploring tongue. Hayley’s fangs find the vein, plucking through thin skin and capturing the flow with ease. Hayley feels the girl tense, and then relax, growing lithe with each pull of blood from her warm neck.

This is easier than feeding from Klaus. Human blood is so thin in comparison, it lacks the allure of overfilling on it. The euphoria is weaker and the aftereffects shorter. Original blood is like no other, she’s read Elijah’s journals on the subject before. Both Kol and Rebekah gained addicted vampire lovers using purposeful feedings in the past. Hayley closes her eyes, trying not to think about Klaus’s taste and instead on not killing the girl.

She listens, feels it out. The heart slows and she pulls away, licking the corners of her mouth and tossing Klaus a triumphant glare. 

“Well done,” he purrs, “and how do you feel?” His eyes trail over her swollen lips, absently running the pad of his thumb along his own. The blood makes her hone in on the subtle changes to his heartbeat; the sweetening of his scent.

Hayley tries to detach from the vampiric senses. She’s getting better at it. Replies lightly, “not full but not starving.”

“Perfect,” he states, standing and dismissing the girl with a flick of the wrist. “Now, come.”

Hayley mutters about not being a dog, but obeys.

*

The attic is stuffy so they don’t stay long. He shows her a painting and Hayley laughs. The canvas is medium sized and in the center is a portrait of a fluffy white cat. It could easily be mistaken for Coriander.

“I thought Declan might enjoy it. This was a cat that brought me dead mice in exchange for bowls of cream during the spring of 1898, I believe. I named her Vivienne after a French whore I enjoyed the previous year until she was murdered by her husband.”

“Nice backstory,” Hayley muttered, shaking her head. “He’ll love it, thank you.”

“I thought the blues would tie in nicely with the restaurant’s scheme.”

“Yeah, totally,” Hayley shrugs. She lacks an eye for design, veering more towards functionality. 

Klaus chuckles, then turns sober, “are you in a hurry today or would you like to enjoy the street music?”

The way he asks causes her to pause. She can tell he has something he needs to talk about but doesn’t want to scare her away. Overly polite and broken eye contact...she is getting better at reading him.

“Music and a drink sounds great,” she shrugs.

  
  


The streets are alive with bands taking turns belting out jazzy tunes. Hayley loves the way the sounds bounce off the old brick and stone buildings. She sways to a familiar tune, her memories trickling in. Elijah loved to dance to this song; sweeping her in his arms and swaying like they were the only people in the world. A twinge of sadness threatens her blood buzz. How does Klaus do it -sit alone with all of these beautiful and tragic memories.

She jolts under Klaus’s sudden touch. He grasps her arm and gently spins her around. He takes one of her hands in his, settling the other on the small of her back. He says, eyes elsewhere, “I have news.” They sway to the lulling saxophone echoing down the street. “Antoinette is avoiding my attempts to reach her.”

“Wonderful. Any idea why?” Hayley asks dully, tentatively resting her palm on his chest. If this were Elijah, her arm would be wrapped around his neck, cheeks grazing and heart drunk on love.

He draws her in closer. “I believe there are far more complications than that. If it were up to me, I would fly there tonight and remind her who it is she crosses. This is your call, however.”

Hayley blinks up at him, surprised by his restraint. The care he’s shown her these years without her even knowing… 

She becomes more aware of the way their bodies press, closer than they ever interact...like, ever. It’s...weird. But, nice. He’s been  _ too _ nice for someone who once slaughtered twelve hybrids and banished her to her wolf form when she crossed him. 

He lowers his gaze, “what?”

“I…” she has no idea what to say. She just feels grateful. But also suspicious. And then guilty that she feels that way. So, Hayley focuses on the issue with Antoinette. “I think she knows the risks of going back on your deal. So...maybe it’s a ploy. Maybe the prisoner got to her somehow. Could be it’s someone she’s close with if he worked so closely with her mother.”

“Hmm,” he hums, their swaying becomes more of a slowed embrace. Her palm is warm inside the ancient vampire’s grasp and her pressed navel thumps against his. “Family is family, after all...I shall send her a message she cannot ignore, then.”

Part of her, smaller than she wants to address, warns her she should identify the severity of this... message. But she wants this kill.  _ Needs _ it. Elijah’s wife or not, the woman would have to learn just like any other member of the family -Klaus is alpha. Klaus punishes severely. Loyalty and obedience is required. It takes a united front to show him when he’s overstepped. It’s like dealing with a homicidal toddler.

Hayley glances up again. Catches his gaze; pensive but soft. And just like any toddler, there are moments you can’t help but love them in spite of the tantrums and messes they leave behind.

His accent takes on a lazy lilt. “Are the nightmares better yet?”

She thinks of the dreams she has of Klaus now. Her vampiric needs yanking at her even in sleep. She wants his blood because it feels good. It feels like peace and safety. Happiness, even. More than all of that, it ignited a fire she had snuffed out when she directed all of her attention on a simple human life. 

“Yeah, better,” she says, voice unsteady. 

She thinks of the dream that keeps repeating. The one she ignores when she wakes. 

Hayley snatches her hand out of his grasp and steps out of their embrace.

“I...should really go. And uh...get back to Declan, my husband.”

Klaus raises a brow, “I know who your husband is.”

She nods, eyes unfocused and hands busy with finding her cell. Two missed calls from Declan and a text from Hope.  _ Just checking in. Heard you were in Mystic Falls the other day. _ Hayley thrusts the phone back into her discarded purse, tucking her hair with both hands rapidly behind her ears.

Klaus just stares.

After a long and awkward silence that she fills with fidgeting, he says, “I’ll get you your kill, love.”

Hayley nods, sucking in a gulp of air and slowly releasing, “I know you will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the reviews and kudos! We lost a family member so it took me a little bit to get back in the mood to write. I hope you like it!

*

[ f i v e ]

*

Declan lifts his eyes from the plate of pasta, fork hovering mid bite. Hayley wipes her damp brow and breezes past. 

“Another run? That’s the third today. Good lord, woman, what’s gotten into ya?”

Hayley shrugs, swings open the refrigerator and grabs a bottled iced coffee. Freya got her into them years ago, stating in her mellow and husky tone,  _ they cool my nerves and taste like fall.  _ Not really her usual preference, but Hayley would drink, eat, punch, run - _ anything _ to cool her nerves; to get rid of this restlessness and burning rage she feels over Antoinette’s silence. The prisoner is rightfully Klaus’s and he’s able to calmly make his next move when all she wants to do is  _ RAGE _ .

The glass bottle busts in her hand. She hisses in pain and stares through watering eyes at the shards piercing her skin. Declan leaps up, knocking his chair over backwards. Coriander skitters away, fluffed tail and ears back. 

“Jesus, Hayley!” 

She lets him drag her to the sink, the blood dripping to the floor in loud splats. It’s times like these she likes to avoid. He thinks like a human, clumsily rummaging through the medicine cabinet for their first aid kit. She plucks out the largest shard first, wincing and letting it fall into the sink with a clank.

“I’ll heal,” she reminds him shakily.

He pauses, realization in his eyes. Then, relaxes against the counter, rubbing his face.

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know. It just happened.” She does know. The anger got to her. Running wasn’t cutting it anymore. 

She pulls out another shard and he sighs heavily, flicking on the faucet. “I’m worried about you,” he states tentatively. She ducks her head, staring at the way her blood swirls in the sink. “You’d tell me if something was going on, wouldn’t ya?”

Hayley nods. The lies are so much easier now. 

*

Klaus ushers her in. She had called him an hour after raging at Charlie for half-ass cleaning the wait station. She’d almost lost it; veins and fangs and growls of anger. She’d had to compel her, but she’d never forget the look of horror on her face.

“Come, we’ll have a drink.”

Hayley snaps, “I don’t  _ want  _ a drink.” She knows she sounds unhinged. But what’s she supposed to do with all this waiting and craving and obsessing?

His steps falter, but continue once they reach the landing. She follows him to the parlor and snatches the drink he offers, taking a gulp. 

“Have you fed today?”

She sweeps her arm, exclaiming, “yeah. Of course I did.” His eyes follow the splatter of alcohol that sloshes from her cup to his shoes.

He inhales thickly and moves to the chaise, sitting purposefully and shooting her a sharp look as he tugs off his shoes and sets them neatly to the side. 

Tone clipped, he asks, “how much?”

“The normal amount, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with this.”

Hayley paces the room, feeling his eyes on her. She clenches and unclenches her fist. She hasn’t felt this much uncontrollable anger since first triggering her wolf gene. But this is a different sort of anger. It’s not just wanting to fight, it’s wanting to kill. To drain the very life from someone and feel that life stirring in her own veins. To  _ consume _ .

“Hayley…” he utters softly. 

She stops in front of the fireplace. Her eyes are throbbing. She’s so worked up that her vampire side is visibly pushing through. With an exasperated growl she hurls her glass into the low burning fire. Flames shoot up, roaring back at her. 

“I’m  _ sick  _ of feeling this way,” she admits. She decides to leave. No sense in embarrassing herself with childish outbursts. 

Hayley mumbles a goodbye and stalks towards the hall. 

“Wait…”

She falters. Stops to grasp the door frame. Turning around slowly, she gasps. The sound echoes in the still room. He’s looming close, head tilted, expression...different. 

Hayley moves to walk around him, heart flying all over the place. His arm catches her and he scoops her into an embrace. She goes limp. Her mind gives in, lets her body react for her. A small inner voice wonders if this is another test or if he’s figured out a new way to help her through this post traumatic vampire hell. 

He walks them to the chaise, nudging her backwards like a wolf herding prey. “You’re going to hurt someone.”

“I know,” she croaks. 

He backs her down, creeping over, lips so close she can smell the scotch on his breath; feels the warmth of his skin radiating onto her tilted chin. Her body lands on the chaise, the giving cushion bouncing her against his chest.

She’s shaking. This is headed somewhere unintended.  _ Bad idea.  _ Alarm rings throughout her body. It’s surely all over her face. She can’t move, she just stares up into his softened eyes. Mind flying, belly quaking.

“You need more than blood.” He looks stoic; confident -but there’s something in his eyes. This is not something either of them would ever pursue under normal circumstances. There’s too much at stake. Too much history. Way too many complications. 

Hayley nods anyway because it feels good to feel something else for a moment; the small inner voice mutters  _ typical me _ . 

He stares as if he doesn’t believe she understands his meaning, their bodies close, so close. She thrums with impatience, anger, murderous lust, yet it starts to morph into something else. Something her body can absorb. Something shiny for the monster.

She wants this. Craves it like her morning blood. Imagines it like a blushing teenager. The voice fades in the background,  _ you’re an asshole _ . 

He pulls the tucked front of her blouse free from her skirt; grazes her navel, ancient fingers and a stillness to his face. He touches her like she’s moldable clay and she trembles like she’ll crack. His fingers dip under the thin fabric of her skirt and she closes her eyes. 

She’s terrified. But it’s a delicious terror. It’s the moment before you jump out of a plane or tell someone that you love them for the first time. It’s knowing you could lose everything for the sake of this one thing -and this one thing feels like everything. 

He lowers his full lips, kisses each rib, fingers feathering down her thighs. She’s muttering to herself, fighting and fighting with that voice that just won’t quit. He doesn’t stop. He won’t. Not unless she says to. Even as she battles with lust and pain, practically crying under his pensive gaze. 

His fingers nudge up her skirt with sensual precision and he takes a probing look into her eyes. She makes a throaty sound as the pad of his thumb skates across her panties like a warm kiss. 

She tries to remember that night when they ravished each other with selfish pleasure, strangers just looking to get off. She can’t even remember looking into his eyes that night, not even once. Now she’s trapped in his gaze and she swears she can feel it all the way in her toes. 

He’s enjoying her response, she can tell. He’s in control and she can barely hold a steady breath. Klaus’s palm lays flat against her cotton panties, cupping her warmth, watching her writhe. If she’s to stop this and keep her loyalty to her husband intact - _ now _ would be the time to stop. She grabs his wrist, eyes squeezed shut. 

He stills, words tangled with his accent. “Is this helping?”

She shakes her head no but croaks, “yes”.

He slides her panties down her thighs. She watches him untangle them from her shoes and toss them aside. He tugs his shirt over his head, lets it fall from his hand. He creeps up her body, looming -more like a lion than a wolf. He moves to kiss her but she turns her head, tears budding. He thumbs away the wetness, dropping kisses along her damp cheekbones.

“Talk to me,” he urges, his scent all around her. Familiar and intoxicating. Forbidden. 

Her voice belongs to another. Where did she go? “I can’t keep doing this to people.” She thinks of Jackson and Elijah and Declan and weddings and breakups and death and heartache and never knowing how to stay still. 

He’s kissing her neck and whispering for her to tell him to stop. Asks her if it’s what she wants. She pushes him and he lets her. She hits his chest and it’s like she’s kissing him instead. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

“No.” 

He growls and their mouths are everywhere. Hands, teeth, tongues...years of barely looking one another in the eye. Years of no tangible feelings outside of familial and partnership. 

“What are-,” she whimpers between his swollen kisses, “ -we doing?”

He pulls her blouse off, shaking it free from her hair; smooths loose tendrils from her brow and kisses her gently. Once, twice, then moves his mouth to her neck, murmurs, “I don’t know,” His tongue trails along her collarbone...pushes her bra strap down to nip at her shoulder.

Her fingers tangle in his hair. Soft and thick, like Hope’s. He slides a hand into the front cup of her bra, pulling a breast free. Guilt rattles inside her lungs. Every breath counts a second that she’s betraying her marriage -betraying the partnership for Hope...the balance within the family.  _ This is Klaus for fucks sake, _ the voice hisses. 

He’s inside her and she feels it in her spine. He fills her and moves with her like they’re familiar lovers and  _ it’s more than that _ , the voice shudders. He kisses her like he’s the hungry one. The weight of everything floats away with her cries and his strong, languid thrusts. 

When it’s all over in panting cries, she cradles him there, thighs wrapped tightly around his taut waist. He falls slack, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He breathes heavily and she lazily covers her eyes with a damp palm. 

She wonders if this feeling of rare peace is worth what they just did.  _ It’s not.  _ But it is. 

*

Hayley cries on the way home, knuckles white around the steering wheel. Cries and laughs. Relives the entire scene over and over, doesn’t even remember the drive home. 

She’s wet for him still, throbs and aches as if he’s still buried inside. She enters her home, grateful it’s a late night for Declan. The thought of him trying to kiss her...touch her right now.  _ You’re a horrible person.  _ She’s sick, on the verge of puking -and she’s elated. Ignited. Alive. 

Tossing her car keys aside, she goes through the motions. Feeds Coriander -thinks about Klaus’s fingers spreading her open. Starts her shower -relives the taste of his tongue basked in her arousal. Runs soap over her breasts -imagines they’re his hands. 

Hayley lathers her hair. She thinks about if she could really be okay with holding this kind of secret. If dealing with her vampire in such ways could really protect the human life she’s building with someone who deserves... _ better than you _ .

Hayley shakes her head of the admonishing inner voice. She’s losing it...only feels sane when Klaus soothes with blood and body. The guilt hasn’t come. And when it does… 

When she’s finished washing away their mixed sweat, his scotch kisses, and the burn of his touch; Hayley crawls into bed with her phone. She tries Hope.

She perks up at the sound of her daughter’s voice. There’s noise in the background, like piano music and clanking dishes. She must be having dinner with Landon, or at the Salvatores with Caroline. 

“I’ve missed you,” Hayley admits, twisting a strand of hair. “How was your visit with your uncle?”

There’s a long pause. Hayley wonders if Hope had told Caroline not to tell anyone about her visit with Kol. 

Hope clears her throat, “I’ve missed you too. Listen, I can’t talk right now but I did want to ask if a visit next week would be alright. I thought I’d stay with you and Declan this time.”

Hayley swallows a sigh. Hope usually stays with Klaus. Hayley hates when there’s unresolved mess between daughter and father. They are both too stubborn, it drives her crazy. 

“Yeah, totally. Please do. You know we love having you.”

“Great...well, I’ll give you a heads up before I come. Love you.”

“Love you.”

*

  
The smell of cinnamon and coffee pulls Hayley from the tangled, sweaty grasp of their sheets. Declan is whistling from the kitchen, dishes clanking over the whir of a blender. Her phone buzzes from somewhere on the hardwood.

Klaus.

The text reads:  _ you left the painting. Come pick it up later? _

Grimacing, she drops the phone with a clatter and burrows under the downy comforter. The anger, rage, torturous memories are all gone this morning. In its place is a war between guilt and peace. And if she’s honest: shock. Immortality is a very, very long time. Unending. And not once has she ever thought she would sleep with Klaus Mikaelson ever again. Not a year from now; not a century. And especially not while her husband still lives. 

She squeezes her eyes shut. 

“Rise and shine,” Declan calls from the doorway.

She grumbles something incoherent and kicks off the covers, heart softening at the sight of him. He stands in loose pajama pants and a thin fitted shirt, fingers grasping a steaming coffee mug, head tilted with a smile. Her belly flutters and dips at the sight. He’s her anxiety’s antidote -when he’s around long enough.

Following him to the dining room, she rakes her nails down his shirt, giving him a morning back scratch. He wriggles, gruffly demanding, “lower.”

She playfully grabs a handful of his ass and drops a kiss to his shoulder before slipping into the kitchen seat. Her stomach growls at the plate of caprese salad and a gooey cinnamon roll. It’s the first time in forever since food seemed appealing.

Declan pours her coffee, the drawstrings of his pants tickling her arm. “You seem chipper this morning. Ya finally hear from Hope?” 

She nods, mouth full of tomato and cheese. 

“That’s great! You coming with to work a morning shift, or will I see you tonight?”

Hayley remembers Klaus’s text. Obviously he doesn’t give a crap that she left the painting. He wants to talk. She can’t imagine facing him right now. Not until some time passes. He helped her vampire side switch gears, saving who knows who from her uncontrollable wrath. She’s grateful.That’s it.

“I’ll definitely help you with the morning crowd. Don’t want you sweeping up after Charlie alone.”

He chuckles, “she’s actually getting the hang of things. Quick learner and really great with the customers.”

Hayley smiles, mind drifting as Declan continues to chat about work. She’ll need to down a blood bag before leaving, but hates to do it in front of him. The desire to keep her vampire needs separate from her human life is stronger than ever. She’d just have to sneak it like a cigarette out in the employees smoking alley. 

“Let me clean up the dishes while you get ready”, she offers.

He smiles, ruffles her hair, and drops a kiss atop her head. “I don’t deserve you, sweets.”

  
  


*

Hayley smooths her black pencil skirt, breathing out a heavy sigh.  _ Camille’s  _ kitchen is a madhouse. Today’s lunch rush takes the small staff by surprise; Hayley dashing between hostess duties and food running for Charlie and the other waitresses. There’s a lull in customers so Hayley heads towards the small office tucked beside the kitchen. 

“Hey, Mrs. O’Connell?” Charlie calls from the bar. She’s helping their bartender get caught up on wiping down the mahogany shelves and round-back stools.

Hayley inwardly groans. She’ll never get to her blood bag now. She stalks over, tightening her low ponytail.

The girl, oblivious to Hayley’s vampire-fueled irritation, asks, “do you mind if I get off early today? I’ve got an old friend coming into town. He’s made all these crazy plans and I- “

Hayley cuts her off, “that’s fine,” waves her off and heads back to grab her purse.

Vampire meal concealed, she slips out into the alley, closing the creaky door behind her. There’s a metal bench that needs to be repainted and a makeshift ashtray for the smokers. Hayley leans against the brick wall, sucking greedily at the blood. 

Wind rustles the thick air, and she sighs blissfully. It always feels so good at first. Adrenalin, dopamine, all the good stuff. The thirst wanes. Human senses intensify. It’s like when she first runs under a full moon in her wolf form and feels the ground beneath her paws. A twinge of sorrow threatens her buzz. She can’t think of that now. 

There’s a whir and her eyes snap open. With a yelp she drops the emptied bag and presses against the brick.

“Hello, love.”

Klaus stands with head cocked, arms crossed over a fitted sweater; an elegance to him that Hope had inherited. His boots crunch on weathered cobblestone as he steps close. He looks at her like she’s in trouble. She realizes she forgot to text him back.

“What are you doing here?”, she asks lamely.

His eyes flick down and back up again. “You look nice,” he offers, a lilt to his voice. “That dress is…” He looks again, slower this time. 

She wrinkles her nose. “Declan is in-”.

“Is your phone broken? Lost perhaps?”

Rolling her eyes she mutters, “I was going to reply but we got slammed and I just now got to feed and-“

Klaus covers her mouth with the gentle press of his fingers. Images fly in her mind, scents cling to his skin like a story. She smells the cologne he patted on his neck this morning, the blood from a recent feed, musty paper from a novel he thumbed through on his balcony, the leather of his steering wheel.. 

He asks, voice low, “are we alright?”

She grabs his wrist, just like she had when she’d momentarily changed her mind last night. He lets her remove his hand but grasps her other wrist in return. 

“Hayley, please,” he pauses, jaw tense and eyes darting back and forth between her own. 

She realizes he must think she’s angry with him...come to her senses once the blood, rage, and alcohol faded. And really, she should have woken up by now. But all she feels is grateful. It’s the closest she’s felt to her old self in a long time. He had helped her redirect the vampire hunger, anger, and self hatred somewhere...safe. 

She crosses her arms, looks at her feet. “It helped. A lot. And yeah, I’ll come get the painting but I think we should...talk about all this. You can’t just show up here with Declan nearby and…”

She trails off. He’s watching her mouth and leaning in. He steps closer. Too close. There would be no mistaking their interaction for anything less than intimate. He leans down, prickly cheek brushing against hers, and whispers in her ear, “you had better wear that dress.”

Her breath hitches and she turns slightly; just enough to almost brush her parted lips against his as he backs away. She steals a look into his eyes and finds them elsewhere -behind her. His face falls.

Hayley whirls around to find Charlie standing with an unlit cigarette at the door, gaping at them. The girl makes a slight movement but Klaus is too quick. He flashes in front of her and takes her by the neck.

“ _ Klaus,”  _ Hayley warns.

He lessens his grip and compels the shocked waitress to return to her job, forgetting what she’d just seen. After Charlie disappears behind the door, Klaus turns slowly and shoots her a wink.

He flashes away -as if it was nothing at all. 

She mutters aloud, stooping down to grab the empty blood bag, “what the hell am I doing?”

*

Scratchy violin music lures her into the parlor. He’s dragged all of his painting supplies into a corner of the room. Hayley leans on the doorframe, watching him dip a brush into a clump of paint, then drag it across the canvas. He’s wearing only the jeans from before, bare toes gripping the bottom rod of the stool. 

Hayley has always loved to watch Hope paint; never feeling comfortable watching Klaus. She’d nurse a glass of wine and watch for whole evenings sometimes, their daughter lost in her work. Hayley bites her lip, tilting her head. They paint the same in some ways. Back straight and hand poised, the same stoic expression and pensive eyes. Same softness to their strokes. It’s mesmerizing how easily father and daughter can pluck an image from their mind and transfer onto a blank surface. 

“Come on in, love,” he urges without looking away from his work. 

She pushes off the frame and heads to the drink cart. He’s refilled all of her favorites. Pouring the bourbon, she says, “I can’t stay too long. I told Declan I was meeting with Freya for a drink.”

He’s quiet, painting with his back to her. Hayley wants to ask what the maniacal plan to grab Antoinette’s attention is. But she also doesn’t. She can’t think about that. Just the thought of Antoinette keeping her kill from her…

Klaus tosses the paintbrush down and turns abruptly, slipping off the stool. It rattles unsteadily on its three legs. 

“How are you feeling today? You fed once this early afternoon. I can scent your agitation and anxiety…”

“I felt great but that’s wearing off. I should have fed sooner and again but I...just didn’t have the time.”

He breezes by, wiping his paint smudged fingers on a rag. “You’re immortal. You make the time.”

She blinks. He seems colder. He tosses the rag and pours himself a scotch. It’s Elijah’s. She recognizes the scent immediately -knows the way it tastes on someone else’s tongue. She swallows thickly.

He plops down on the small couch he had situated near the fire. “Sit with me,” he murmurs, face glowing from the dancing flames.

She thinks of the nights she’d sit there with Hope stirring in her womb. It had always been on the awkward side sharing spaces with him, never knowing what mood she’d find him in. It was feeling a little like that now. She sits anyway, closer than she would have dared before.

“You have to keep a tight rein on your emotions right now. I need your head clear when we get a hold of the prisoner. Your kill should be vengeance for your wolf and for yourself. If you let the vampire side take over, it won’t heal or satiate a thing. Your thirst for vengeance will only grow.” He glances at her. Somber and hardened. “Then you’ll end up just like me.”

“But you’re not -“

His eyes flash, cutting her off, “I am consumed with centuries of vengeance and hatred. The vampire curse won’t let go of such things because it  _ is _ such things. There are little circumstances I have approached without it being for the purpose of feeding the hungry vampire within.”

Hayley doesn’t know what to say. He’s right about all of it. She feels more than ever that inner battle that she can rarely win against the traumatized vampire that stirs and churns; never sleeps. Not unless she feeds it what it demands. And even then…

He sucks in a breath and looks at her. He seems sad. Conflicted. Defeated. “Last night I let my own demons get the best of me.”

Hayley’s eyes lower to his lips. Heat crawls up her chest, memories of his tongue in her mouth and her lower back dripping in sweat. “Doesn’t matter,” she whispers. “It helped and I’m grateful.”

His face melts into something soft. Her eyes trail towards the pulse in his neck. She can’t help it. It’s what her vampire needs. The hunger stirs and it knows how good it tastes and how deep it courses through her veins.

Klaus notices. “We have to be careful with this, Hayley.” She nods, only half listening. He touches her cheek, bringing her attention back to his words. “The blood we share has the potential to create bonds. The kind that runs deeper than one night stands.”

“Or therapy sex.”

He quirks a brow, grinning, “therapy sex?” His bare abdomen shakes with laughter.

Hayley grins but it fades. “We do need to talk about what this...is. And where it’s going.” He doesn’t respond, just brings his drink to his lips and stares into the fire.

“I love my husband,” she states firmly. He glances at her, taking a slow draw from his drink. She swallows hard and continues, “but I understand the urgent need to get myself balanced so I don’t hurt him. Or anyone else.”

Klaus drops his arm lazily along the back of the couch, drink dangling from his grip behind her head. She can smell his skin; familiar. It’s calming. Among other things. She sighs. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone in other ways either. Not him. Not Hope,” she looks up at him. “And not you...us. Our partnership for Hope.”

“If it stops helping, we stop. I will never intrude upon the life you’ve built for yourself with Declan.”

Hayley feels herself relax. She ignores the voice that snarks,  _ he already has, you thirsty idiot. _

Klaus sits up and hands her his empty glass. “Could you go refill my drink?” 

Hayley furrows her brows. “Are your legs broken?”

“Everything works fine. I just wanted a better look of you in that dress.”

She rolls her eyes. “Isn’t therapy sex only for when I need it?”

“Oh, we’re having sex?” He shoots her a boyish grin. 

She huffs and gets up to fill his drink, giving off an aura of sass rather than sexiness. When she turns he’s eying her anyway, hands laced behind his head. It should make her uncomfortable. There’s no need for flirtation in this scenario, yet he’s laying it on thick. Why?  _ You know why. _

She stops at his feet and hands him the glass. “I should go.”

“Very well.”

She doesn’t move. She thinks about going home and pretending she isn’t thinking about murder and violence and Declan’s warm pulse beckoning her fangs.

He sets the glass aside with a clank, leans forward with straightened back, elbows propped on his knees. If he moved any closer his chin would nudge against her navel. He places both hands on the sides of her thighs, fingers close to the curve of her bottom. 

“Now whose legs are broken?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. He rests his chin on her belly. Her pulse is thumping wildly beneath the weight. 

“I need to feed or something,” she admits thinly.

“Shall we go grab a tourist?”

“No time, he’s expecting me.”

“Would you like my blood? Or...something else?”

Her eyes pop open. “Your blood is fine,” she states quickly.

He hums a response, leaning back onto the sofa. “Take it then.”

“I thought you said we were done with that.”

“We should be.”

She fidgets with her bracelet, shifting weight from leg to leg.  _ Don’t you dare… _ the voice prickles as her vampiric instinct hone in on his neck…envisions mounting him and his hands grasping her ass as she devours and sucks mouthfuls. She pictures the blood dripping down his bare chest and her lapping at every drop…

Her veins prickle and fangs extend. He watches, so still. He keeps his hands at his sides as she pushes her knees onto the couch, her hair cascading over his tilted head. She lowers herself, skirt straining and gathering up her thighs, straddling his lap. She takes his chin firmly in her grasp. She doesn’t know why she changes plans last second but her lips crash into his. It’s not just the blood she needs after all.

He sucks a sharp breath and jolts beneath her. They kiss like they’ll die otherwise. It’s loud and it echos; their breaths hissing between parted lips, wet tongues entangled, and his grunts of pain as she breaks free and sinks her fangs into his neck.  _ Idiot. _

It’s a deep bite, she knows it hurts. The blood pours into her mouth; so much of it that it dribbles down her chin. It hits her hard, warming her gut, igniting every nerve ending. She feels like she could live like this forever. She feels like immortality is made for them. Partners. 

He pulls her off with a fistful of hair. The pain doesn’t even register. His free hand flies to his gaping neck and she gasps for air, licking her teeth as she shudders in near ecstasy.

“You greedy little thing,” he admonishes.

She doesn’t have time to utter a sound before he yanks her head to the side and bites down. Hard. It should hurt so badly that she screams. But the burning of wolf venom is no match for his antidotal blood flooding her veins. He unlatches and stares with glowing amber eyes. His wolfish smile makes her burn. 

They stare at one another, chests heaving and hearts pounding, until their fangs rescind and veins settle beneath the skin. Somehow, they calm their monsters. The coppery scent hangs thick in the air.

He touches her blood-caked lip; clucks his tongue. “You can’t go home looking like that.”

He stands, bringing her up with him. She trails behind him down the dim hallways. She knows the place so well she could close her eyes and never make a wrong turn. 

Klaus has her sit on the counter, it’s cold beneath her thighs. She grips the marble and subtly kicks her dangling feet, watching him wet a washcloth. He looks like he’s concentrating on painting as he dabs at her mouth. The dampness curls a coppery scent around her shallow breaths. Their eyes meet and she feels something. She fucking feels something.  _ You can’t come back from this.  _

“I’m gonna go,” she croaks, brushing his hand away. She slides off of the counter, colliding against his warm chest. He moves aside, nodding and running his fingers through his hair. 

She’s really going to have to take a step back.  _ More like a leap. _

  
  


*

Days go by and Hayley can almost pretend nothing had ever happened. Her body and mind are crisp. She’s herself. Her marriage is happy and Declan makes her laugh. He feeds her food and fucks her on the kitchen table. They take turns rubbing each other’s feet while watching movies late at night. It’s just as it’s always been, but better. Her feelings for him haven’t changed. It’s as if this life is completely separate from the life where she needs more than a blood bag. 

Hayley feels a sense of ease. Klaus is right. It is just a therapeutic moment in time in a story that has nothing to do with their current lives. Vampires and humans don’t live on the same timelines. 

Klaus texts still, but no mention of what had happened on that couch. No flirtatious remarks. Just Klaus. Just the father of her child. Hayley realizes she doesn’t feel guilt for what happened because she’s more like her old self. The anger and memories are in the background now. Her marriage is better for it.

Everything’s fine, really. No rage. No hunger. Just Hayley living her life. 

“I’ll miss you,” Declan tells her that night. He’s going out of town for a few days. Another private chef thing.

“I’ll miss you too. Hey, you sure you don’t want me to drop you at the airport?”

“No, no, that’s fine. Charlie is giving me a ride on the way there to drop her friend off anyway.”

“Hm. So helpful.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound flat.

Declan raises his brows, a delighted smile showing a row of white teeth. “You’re jealous, are ya?”

She snorts, “ew, no.”

He tickles her and she swats at him, laughing, “stop! I just think she’s always a little...eager to help you out.”

“Well, if it makes ya feel any better, her friend is riding with us so I’d hardly worry about any eagerness to further...help me out.” He waggles his brows. 

Hayley shakes her head, grinning. “Alright, well I’ll see you in a few days.”

  
  


Once the house is empty, Hayley has no idea what to do with herself. She does know, however, that she’s not going to rely on Klaus to get through the boredom. She’s been keeping up with her feeding and the anger is low. Her patience around Antoinette is up and down but she’s handling the waves alright on her own.

After mindlessly organizing their closet, Hayley stares at Coriander. The feline is bathing in the setting sun, stretched across their floor. 

“I think I’m going to go grab a drink and make nice with a tourist’s wrist. What do ya think, cat?”

Coriander blinks and stands with an exaggerated stretch. She flicks her tail and sashays from the room.

“Okay then…”

Hayley peruses her freshly cleaned closet and opts for something a little more her old self. Ripped jeans, boots, and a low v-neck she tucks into the front. Hair tousled and parted to the side. She gives her reflection a satisfied smile and grabs her keys. 

“Bye cat,” she calls over her shoulder. 

*

The bar is packed. Hayley threads her way through the crowd towards an open seat. It’s not an elegant place; more on the cheap side and closer to the outskirts of the city. Not somewhere she’d ever go to with Declan or like, any of the Mikaelsons. Maybe Freya. 

She orders a whiskey at the bar and finds a chair. She’s never done this before; hunt a crowd for blood. Just once with Klaus, after she turned. And then he led her to take her kills. All those witches... _ god  _ so satisfying. He gets her. He’s always gotten her.

A younger guy is eying her from the dance floor.  _ No buddy, I will not be line dancing with you. _ She gives him a look anyhow. Might as well get this over with. He lights up, probably thinking it’s his lucky night. Hayley knocks back her drink and nods her head for him to follow her to the restrooms.

He’s eager all right. Grinning like a fool and pressing up against her in the stall. 

Her pupils dilate. “Stay calm. Stay still.”

He tastes salty and the blood is saturated with alcohol and something bitter. She swallows a few gulps until her throat rejects the last and she sputters it down the front of his shirt. She forgot the important step of asking if he’d taken anything recreational today. No matter, she wipes her mouth. It’ll work itself through her system quickly whatever it is. 

She pats his cheek. “You got into a bar fight and now you need to go home and clean up.”

He obeys and she exits hastily back into the crowded bar. The music seems muffled...echoey. She sways as she stumbles through the sweaty patrons towards her seat. She stops suddenly, heart going cold.

The man -cold dark eyes. The prisoner; her torturer... She sees him staring with a sneer. Hayley shuts her eyes, shakes her head, swaying and forgetting to breathe under the heavy blanket of laced blood. When she looks again, he’s nowhere to be found. 


	6. Chapter 6

*

[six]

*

  
  


A storm rattles the windows. Hayley grasps the steaming mug, staring unfocused into the muddy concoction Freya had brewed up for her. Coriander cowers in a corner, glaring at the unwanted houseguests.

Hayley feels foolish, taking on who knows what recreational substance and then hallucinating the man, her kill. Klaus has yet to tear into her, but she knows it’s coming once they are in private.

“If you’re feeling better, I need to be getting back to Keelin and the baby…” Freya gently lays a hand on Hayley’s shoulder. 

Klaus stands, arms folded and jaw set. “No, dear sister, you will stay until you elaborate on your visit with Hope.”

Hayley sinks lower. Freya had arrived with substance neutralizing herbs after Hayley frantically called her from the bar when Klaus couldn’t be reached. The hallucination had crippled her, the world had tipped and spun, the air turning so thin she couldn’t breathe. 

Freya had casually mentioned, as she boiled the foul smelling herbs over the stove, that she’d been called to help Hope a few weeks ago. Somehow Klaus’s anger towards Hayley for feeding from someone without checking for drug use first, has transferred to anger about Hope’s secretive activities. The man truly abhors being out of the loop. She knows it’s because he just wants everyone safe and believes he’s the only one who can properly keep everyone that way. 

Freya settles her cool and collected gaze on his, tilting her chin and setting her keys purposefully back on the counter. “As I said before, she met me for a drink in Mystic Falls and asked for my help. She inquired about how to strengthen a locator spell.”

“Do you think me daft? I’m not even a witch and  _ I  _ could tell you how to strengthen a bloody locator spell.”

Hayley raises her eyes. Watches them both have a silent standoff. She takes another sip, gagging with a shudder.

Freya is the first to fold, eyes dropping and arms crossing. “She obviously just wanted access to Aunt Dahlia’s grimoire.”

“And did you allow her such access?”

Freya swallows. Nods. 

Klaus tosses his hands in the air. “What a splendid idea! Give my daughter pages upon pages of the very dark magic that has plagued this family with hardships countless times over!”

“I placed a mimic spell on it. Anything she practices from the grimoire will appear written in my own. At least then we can see what it is she’s really up to.”

There’s a long pause. Freya has always held her ground the most skillfully against Klaus’s directed anger. Hayley sees so much of her in Hope. 

Freya continues, “so far she’s only used a spell that strengthens a vampire’s abilities. She might merely be helping out a friend.”

“Ah, yes, and historically that’s gone so well!” Klaus snaps. 

Hayley stands and moves between them, turning to Freya. She hugs her tightly. “Thank you for your help. Just let us know what you find out. Give the baby and Keelin our love.”

After Hayley locks the door behind Freya, she wraps her arms around herself and turns to face Klaus. He wordlessly turns and heads into her living room. She follows and hovers near the entry, watching and waiting. It’s not often he visits. She can’t remember if he’s ever even ventured this far into her home before.

He picks up a framed photo of her wedding day. “Declan is out of town a lot lately.”

“Yes…”

He sets it down, runs a finger over the spines of Declan’s Irish History books. “Do you find that his absence makes your vampire’s desires better or worse?”

“Worse.” She moves to the plush couch, sinking into her usual spot. “Why, what are you getting at?”

The antique clock ticks obnoxiously from the mantel. He stops near the French doors. He runs his hand over the soft linen curtains. 

Staring outside he lets out a long breath. “Solitude is a vampire’s natural preference. It craves the opportunity to dote upon its desires. To let the monster settle in. When he’s gone, you shall stay with me.” He turns to her, eyes her steadily; an alpha standing firm. “Pack a few things, I’ll be in the car.”

Hayley opens her mouth to protest, but clamps it shut. 

*

The courtyard is damp with rain. Vines have grown up the stacked stone, woven over the family crests like suffocating snakes. Hayley stops at the fountain. It hasn’t been working in years. She remembers throwing coins in it with Hope when she was just a child;  _ make a wish _ .

Klaus pauses midway up the stairs. He sets her small suitcase down, shoulders dropping,head tilting. 

Her voice is strained and hoarse. “How am I supposed to kill him when I can’t even hallucinate him without cowering?”

Klaus’s face softens. “It will feel different when you expect to see him. When you’ve planned and prepared.” He steps down and approaches slowly, stops close and touches her shoulder. “When you don’t have some frat boys’ recreational drugs littering your veins.”

Hayley nods, shoulders relaxing. “You’re right,” she breathes. She’s exhausted. Hungry. On edge. She bites her lip and peers at him. 

He looks away. “I fear I’ve been selfish, Little Wolf.”

She winces at the name. 

He notices and murmurs, “cursed or not, your wolf will always be a part of your story. And mine.” He lets out a long breath, squeezes her arm gently. “I shouldn’t have let things transpire as they have between us.”

“Like I said. It’s helped me when nothing else has.”

“There are other ways but I...” His words echo off the wet stone and he stills.

That inner voice nagged in her skull,  _ told ya… _

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Hayley reminds him, steadying herself against the fountain’s edge. 

“Are you sure?” He swallows, voice breaking, and looks down. “I should be helping you process your reaction and fear…” He steps closer, “yet, all I want to do is taste my blood on your tongue.”

She stops her breath mid-inhale. Blinking, she meets his gaze. Something is wrong if she believes that she can live two lives without someone getting hurt. Why is it so hard to care about that right now?

It has to be the blood.  _ Obviously _ .

“It’s not my intention.” He puts his hands on her cheeks, eyes closed and head bowed. “I’m sorry.”

Hayley croaks, “You don’t always have to be the bad guy. Sometimes things just...happen.”

Like a crack of lightning his eyes flash to hers. His mouth presses and melds to hers before she can exhale, his fingers digging into her jaw. It’s languid and searing. She feels it everywhere; shivers and warm chills. His words move against her lips. “Sweetheart, I  _ am _ the bad guy.” 

“Mom?”

They fly apart, Hayley’s heart sinks. Her eyes rapidly seek out her daughter’s face. It’s flushed and gaping in surprise. She’s standing in the entry, and she’s not alone. 

He steps out of the shadows and adjusts his tie. 

“Elijah…” she breathes.

*

  
  


The silence is louder than the storm. Elijah tosses another log into the crackling fire. He tends to it as if it’s his home again. As if he never left. She watches through blurred vision as he dusts his hands off and shuffles to the drink cart. Klaus is stoic and motionless next to her on the couch. 

Elijah pours himself a scotch, and another that he walks over to Hope. She accepts it wordlessly, taking a sip. He walks behind Hope’s seat in the tufted chair, placing a hand on the back and settles his gaze on Klaus. As if a united front. 

Elijah’s voice is somber. “It is good to see you again, brother.”

Hayley’s fingernails dig into her arms. She’d been unable to look him in the eye, her heart beating so wildly it’s impossible to hide. She feels his attention shift onto her. Klaus’s hand stills her knee. She didn’t realize she’d been bouncing it. 

Klaus glares at Hope. “What have you done?”

Hope sits up straighter, settles an even stare back at her father. “I knew mom was struggling and I thought-.”

“-You thought I couldn’t handle it.” He shakes his head. “How did you return his memories?” Klaus sits forward, seething, “who helped you?”

Hayley blurts out, the realization like a cold slap, “you never went to visit your Uncle Kol, did you? You were in France.”

Hope blinks rapidly. “I returned his memories on my own. I couldn’t risk involving anyone. I found a way using...family magic.”

“Dahlia…” Hayley mutters.

Klaus throws his hands up, face red with anger, “what in the bloody hel—“

“Niklaus,” Elijah cuts in sharply. “My wife is missing. She’s missing because she tried to harbor a prisoner for you. A very dangerous man with a lot of allies. A lot of supporters. Some of which are here now in search of someone you have locked in the cell.”

Hayley whips her head to stare at Klaus’s tense profile. He blinks slowly and asks through his teeth, “Antoinette lost my prisoner?”

“Who is in the cell?” Hayley asks, voice low.

Hope crosses her arms and answers flatly, “Roman.”

Hayley closes her eyes. The voice swirls in her mind,  _ see what happens when you ignore shit?  _ She shakes it away. “How long have you had him down there?!”

Klaus replies matter of factly, “since I promised you we’d get Antoinette’s attention.”

Elijah’s ring clanks against his glass; a sharp rap that assaults her nerves. It’s a nervous habit Hayley remembers well. She sneaks a look at his face. There’s hints of a shadowy beard and his hair appears longer, though it’s slicked to the side with a familiar product she could smell in the air, like spiced honey. She wonders if he was happier before. She wonders if he’ll ever be the same. 

His eyes flick to hers and she jolts and looks away. She wonders if he’ll ever feel to her like less of a loss.

Klaus stands and points accusingly at Elijah. “Do not explain to me what kind of  _ man _ that prisoner is.”

Elijah bows his head, voice breaking. “I’m aware of his involvement in—“

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Hayley cuts in, voice like a dropped brick. She feels the veins prickle, her fingers poke through the fabric of the sofa. She stands quickly, turning away.

Silence settles and Hayley has to breathe long and steady to calm the monster creeping up her spine.

Hope clears her throat and says, “we don’t know how many allies the man might have or where he might be hiding Antoinette, but there’s someone who does.” She stands and sets her glass heavily down. “It’s time to let him out, Dad.”

*

The storm passes, leaving the air thick and heavy. Hayley grasps the balcony iron railing, breathing in the earthy scent of drenched stone and dripping oaks. It’s so late the bars are closing. She watches drunken patrons lean on one another, grabbing rides and walking arm in arm. 

Footsteps approach. She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him. Elijah wordlessly joins her at the railing, resting his hands near her own and breathing in slowly. 

She should look at him. Say something. Anything. But she can’t even blink.

They stand in silence, listening to the shouts of father and daughter deep in the belly of the house. Roman had only known the man’s name. Harrison. Such a normal name. Not one she’d associate with a sadistic rapist. But then again, mothers don’t name their babies assuming such things. 

Hope’s voice rises, breaking into Hayley’s thoughts. “ _ She needed Elijah. Not this twisted plan to make her into some murderous blood thirsty vampire!” _

Hayley winces. Her heart thumps loudly. She hates this.

Klaus roars, “ _ that’s precisely what I was preventing!” _

Hope lets out a sarcastic laugh. “ _ How exactly? From the way it sounded and the way it looked -you’ve been a little more focused on your own needs. _ ”

Hayley closes her eyes, bites her lip. Elijah shifts, his breath slowing. 

There’s silence. She has to activate her vampire hearing just to pick up on Hope’s next words. “ _ I’m sorry. I know you care about her. I know you’re trying. But...what do you think hurting Declan will do to her? _ ”

A shattering and a thud startles her. Klaus must have thrown his glass. “ _ That’s exactly what she was in danger of doing. Hurting him. In far worse ways. _ ”

Elijah speaks over Hope’s reply. “She reminds me of you.”

Hayley bristles at the way his voice hums under her skin. “She shouldn’t have brought you back.”

“I’m happy that she did.”

Hayley steps away, dropping her hands to her sides. She looks him in the eye, tries not to remember the things trickling in. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

“Oh, you could have,” he tilts his head. “But I’m entirely grateful to my brother that you didn’t have to.”

Hope storms onto the balcony, cheeks flushed and eyes unfocused. “I’m taking Roman to the school, I think it’s best we help from afar.” She tosses a look towards the bedroom where Klaus hovers before peering at Hayley. “Want me to take you home?”

Hayley shakes her head.

“Okay...I’m sorry if...” Hope sighs and shrugs helplessly. 

Hayley pulls her in for a hug. 

*

Small talk and gaps of silence settle between brothers. Hayley remains near the window, as if staring out of it will somehow make her feel less trapped. She wants to run and hide. She wants to feed and cry. Antoinette is missing, which means the prisoner is missing.  _ It means more than that. _

Hayley turns and faces them. Their conversation slows and fades. Klaus’s lips part, questioning and concern morphing his expression. She folds her arms tight and unsteadily states, “I think we need to consider that I didn’t hallucinate tonight. I think it was him. Harrison.”

Klaus shakes his head, standing quickly, “no, love.”

Elijah silences him with a raise of his hand. “I will leave no rock unturned.” He peers at Hayley. Asks softy; gently, “will you take us there?”

*

“Hm,” Klaus gestures for Hayley to enter the bar’s entrance first. “It’s no wonder you picked up some tainted blood. There are  _ far _ better establishments to choose from, you’re aware?”

Hayley rolls her eyes. The door opens under Klaus’s heavy hand, and they all freeze. A blast of metallic death strangles her throat. The place is empty but the scent of blood is unmistakable.

They shuffle in further, Hayley’s vampiric instincts on high alert. Her skin prickles and ears sharpen. The soft tap of dripping blood pulls their attention to the furthest corner.

Elijah makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut. Hayley stumbles backwards into Klaus’s frozen chest. He steadies her, maneuvering so that he puts space between them and the table. It’s the same table Hayley had been sitting at earlier. 

“No…” Elijah croaks, staggering towards Antoinette’s dismembered body. 

Hayley swallows against the bile searing the back of her tongue; watches through blurry vision as Elijah tries to put Antoinette’s head back onto her body with soul wrecking gasps. 

Klaus rushes to stop him, pulling him away. “Step outside, brother.” He puts a hand to Elijah’s stricken face, “She wouldn’t want you to see her like this.”

Hayley looks again at Antionette’s head, just sitting there on the table. Her body propped on a chair next to it. A clean cut, like a butcher’s blade. Her eyes are wide and mouth open like she’s screaming. Hayley squints, notices that’s not quite right. More like...the mouth is open because she can’t close it.

Hayley feels herself moving, doesn’t even think about what she’s doing because if she did, she’d vomit. She gently grasps Antoinette’s chin and sweeps a finger inside her cold mouth. There’s something crumpled. Paper.

Freeing it, she smoothes the damp paper on the table. The world halts. Her heart stutters. There’s a humming in her skull.

“Klaus…”

He rushes to her side, peers over her shoulder. He’s frozen. Until he’s not. But she doesn’t care that he’s pulling her roughly out of the bar or screaming into his phone at Freya. She can’t feel or see a thing. 

The image of a French recipe, torn from an old cookbook, is all she can register. The memory of Declan reading it out loud to her in the back of the restaurant; Klaus’s old collection. It plays over and over. 

The image of Declan’s head sitting beside his body somewhere causes her to lose her breath,  _ Don’t. _ But she can’t help it. And now she’s shaking and screaming at Klaus to drive faster. She’s calling and texting Declan but there’s nothing. There’s just nothing. Just fear. And blind rage.


	7. Chapter 7

*

[ s e v e n ]

*

“Are you angry with me?”

Hayley rubs her neck. “Just drive.”

Klaus sighs through flared nostrils and grips the steering wheel. “You were about to tear into the restaurant with your fangs bared. We don’t have time to cover up a slaughter.”

She ignores him. Tries Declan’s phone again. Hayley’s eyes snap towards Klaus’s when there’s an answer.

“Where are you? Are you alright?” All she can hear is the pounding of her own pulse.

Declan pauses; says tentatively, “yes, of course, what about you?”

“ _Where ARE YOU,”_ she yells, gripping the center console so hard it cracks. Her fangs prick through her gums like daggers. All she can imagine is the repeated image of Antoinette’s head and Jackson’s heart being ripped out in front of her. Back and forth, back and forth. She can’t take another loss like that. She won’t. 

Klaus yanks the car off the road and throws it into park. He snatches the phone from her hand and bites into his palm. He thrusts the open wound against her agape mouth. She growls, grasps his wrist -snaps it. The phone clatters out of his other hand, and he growls back. Before she can blink, he has her by the neck and out of the car. Her back presses against a tree; he’s using his entire body to pin her there. Bark digs through her thin shirt. She wriggles and grunts, baring her teeth.

“You are slowing us down,” he seethes lowly. His breath is hot against her mouth. She feels his hand flex around her throat like a promise. Hayley knows she’s no good to Declan if her neck is constantly being snapped. “Now,” he adds evenly, “drink from me because we can’t very well fuck on the hood of the car in front of my bereaved brother, can we love?”

Hayley’s eyes drift towards the car. Elijah stands with his hand grasping the open door, the other with her cell to his ear. “Okay,” she rasps.

His blood trickles slowly from the wrist, she prefers the neck. Her fangs tear deeper, trying to find a better flow. He doesn’t flinch, but flexes his fingers and looks away. The blood warms her skin; tingles and waves of euphoria. He tastes good, so good; she isn’t thinking about Jackson or Declan or the way Elijah sounded at the bar. She isn’t thinking about Harrison’s mocking cries as he tore relentlessly into her body. She’s only thinking of how to make this moment stretch forever.

She writhes against Klaus as the blood ignites other parts, all parts. A small moan buds in her throat. Her eyes drift open, wonders if he noticed. He glances at her and his lips twitch into a smile. He tilts his head and breathes in slowly. She smiles back, blinking lazily, blood slipping down her chin.

“Come,” he murmurs gently. “We need to get to your husband.”

She wipes at her chin, thrusts a blood coated finger into her mouth -licks it clean, “and then I want my kill.”

He doesn’t answer but thumbs her cheek. Glancing at Elijah, who looks on from the car, he murmurs, “it is yours.” 

*

Hayley props her feet on the dash. Buttery sunlight sets in the distance; she feels like she’s melting into the passenger seat. She’s focused. Alert. She’s herself again. Body relaxed, mind sharp, and vampire abilities at their peak. She can hear Elijah’s heart thump faster than usual and taste the anxiety in the air. 

They are parked at the airport, waiting for Declan to land. She twists at her wedding band as Elijah recounts the conversation with Declan. Hayley listens with a much calmer mind, the original blood an antidote to her panic and rage. For now. 

“Did he say what it was he had to take care of before coming home?” Klaus asks, rubbing at his scruff-lined jaw. 

“No,” Elijah sighs, “he was adamant that all is well and wasn’t thrilled to be speaking with me.” He pauses and leans forward, seat groaning under the weight. “He takes vervain, I’m assuming?”

Hayley nods, “Every day. I send it to work with him in his thermos.” The smell of Elijah’s familiar cologne tickles at her memories. She glances back at him, makes eye contact. His eyes trail all over her face as if looking for the details he forgot in the years they were apart. 

Klaus interrupts the moment, “Freya is working on a locator spell to ensure he’s actually on his way.”

“What of Hope?” Elijah asks, settling back against the seat. His voice breaks, “I need to tell Roman about his sister.”

“I’d prefer she stays within the school. I can’t worry about her too right now.”

Elijah’s quiet. That means he doesn’t agree but won’t push. Hayley closes her eyes as another wave of euphoria soothes her senses. Without thinking, she drops her hand atop Klaus’s. It’s the blood, it’s like it beckons her to connect with its source. It’s the bond he warned could happen. 

Klaus murmurs, “he will be fine,” and gently removes his hand and she shifts; stares out the window. The blood works too well for her to feel awkward about the accidental display of affection. He let her drink more than usual, she realizes. And it was bourbon heavy, she can still taste it on the back of her tongue. 

Golden blonde hair catches her eye. She sits up, on full alert. Blinks several times. “Charlie is here.”

“The waitress? Was she to pick Declan up?”

“Maybe,” Hayley mutters. She exits the car swiftly and stalks up to her, fists balled.

Charlie grins, raises a hand to wave, and says, “oh hey Mrs. O’Connell. I was hoping you’d be here.”

There’s a sting in her neck. Charlie smiles wide, hand clutched over a syringe she’s lodged in Hayley’s vein. The world goes wavy and her skin feels like it’s covered in flames. She sees Klaus and Elijah approaching but… they fall lifeless. 

Hayley goes slack, feels her head meet the asphalt, eyes drifting towards Charlie’s extended hand. 

She’s a witch. _You idiot._

*

It’s hard to breathe. She groans, gasps, and gags. There’s a hissing sound as she works her mouth against a thick cloth. Her eyes drift open. She knows that taste...that pain. She’s gagged with a vervain soaked cloth in a dark room. Panic seizes her chest, but every gasping breath is like razors to her lungs.

“Please let her go, she can’t breathe for fuck's sake!” _Declan_.

“No talking.” _Charlie_.

Hayley tries to focus on the direction of the voices, but she’s facing a wall, bound to a chair. A familiar set up, she realizes. Her hands go numb and she starts to quiver. What she needs is her rage. Her focus. But all she can do is struggle to breathe and relive the last time she was tied to a chair. Her eyes drift down and she whimpers. Blood soaks through her shirt under the press of each spike from the torturous chains.

“You know…” Charlie sighs, strolling into view. She kneels down and tugs at a chain, a row of spikes digging deeper beneath Hayley’s ribs. “I injected you with enough wolf’s venom to obliterate your insides. Yet, here you are, already awake.”

Klaus’s blood still swims in her veins. It had saved her. 

“No mind,” she shrugs. “Harrison can decide what to do with you.”

Hayley tries to kick out at her but the chains pierce and tear. She shrieks, the sound muffles behind the gag. Charlie smiles again and Hayley wants to knock out the row of perfect teeth with her fist. 

“It’s not really you he wants anyway. Not anymore.” Charlie stands and twirls a strand of hair around a finger. She’s still wearing her name tag from work. 

She flicks her wrist, using magic to spin Hayley’s chair around. Charlie plays with Hayley’s hair while her eyes adjust and focus on Declan. His hands are bound behind his back with rope around an old heater. His face is covered in blood, his nose bruised and eye black. 

“While you’ve been running off with your baby daddy, Deck and I have been having _so much_ fun together.” Charlie rakes her nails along Hayley’s scalp. Declan’s eyes close and he bows his head. “Awe,” she croons, “don’t be ashamed. Go ahead, tell her.”

Declan doesn’t look up. Rasps, “he told me to do things and I did them. I didn’t want to but I...I couldn’t stop.”

Hayley aches for him. She feels tears burning in her eyes. What did that monster compel him to do? And why hadn’t he been drinking from his thermos?

He shakes like he’s cold. “I wasn’t going to new jobs every time. Sometimes I was with Charlie. Telling her everything I knew about Hope.”

Hayley stops breathing. Everything slows. The memory of Klaus and Elijah with snapped necks plays back in flashes.

Charlie’s fingers run down Hayley’s neck. “That’s not all we were doing,” she murmurs suggestively. 

He continues, tears muddying his words, “I was in Mystic Falls and I helped him take her.”

Hayley closes her eyes, mind racing. Who else knows what’s going on? Who will come to her daughter’s rescue? Maybe Caroline and Alaric knew. Maybe Landon saw. Roman. Freya was performing a locator spell on Declan. If she loses contact with Klaus and sees where Declan is, there’s a chance. Hayley tries not to think of Harrison alone with her daughter. It’s enough to make her stomach lurch. She gags against the cloth and lets out a frustrated growl.

Charlie strolls over to Declan and sits down next to him. She touches his cheek, he flinches. “Deck’s really good in bed. I didn’t think he would be...but he’s really very passionate.” She glances up at Hayley. “You should try harder at protecting him. Vervain tea with lunch every day? Why would he drink that when I could make him anything else from the bar?”

Hayley tries to speak but her skin hisses under the gag. 

“I’m so sorry, sweets.”

Charlie's phone rings and she steps into the hall, speaking softly. Hayley tries to make eye contact with Declan but he stares at the floor as if in a trance. Shock maybe. 

Charlie strolls back in and states, “lights out for a bit. Sweet dreams.”

She flicks her wrist, Hayley barely feels the crunch.

*

Hayley is in and out of consciousness. She doesn’t know how much time passes before the door creaks open. She can’t even lift her head to see whose fingers rapidly work at her gag. Her eyes fly open as the chains unravel from her body in sickening wet suctioning sounds. She gulps air and feels her body slowly heal from the puncture wounds. 

“Don’t worry, Hope is okay.” _Landon._

She stumbles out of the chair, falling to her knees in front of Declan. He’s dehydrated and weak, barely awake. Her hands limply try to help free Declan, but the room is spinning. Hayley needs blood. Declan’s is still seeping from a broken nose, it sears her throat and begs for her. She should help him heal. 

“We gotta hurry,” Landon urges, pulling her up by the elbows. She unsteadily shuffles towards the door, turning to watch him sling Declan’s arm around his shoulder.

It’s night outside, the cool air stings her healing wounds. She doesn’t recognize the building, but they can’t be far from the airport. 

Landon’s driving the school’s van. Hope probably made him take it; it’s made bullet proof and the windows are treated to protect vampires from the sun. It’s also spelled. Hope will know exactly where they are.

The roads whir beneath; Hayley glances up at Declan. He’s quiet and staring out of the window, sniffling at the blood that won’t quite stop dribbling from his swollen and purple nose. She bites into her wrist and brings it to his mouth.

“It’ll help,” she urges softly. He blanches and shakes his head. She sighs. Doesn’t feel like explaining that the scent of fresh blood is bothering her. She sneaks a few droplets into the water bottle and hands it to him. “Then have some water at least.”

He takes it, swallows a few gulps, and continues to stare out of the window. 

Through blurry eyes, she watches his nose heal and the trees rush past as they hurtle towards Mystic Falls.

*

Hope greets Landon first. She lays a hand on his cheek, kisses his lips and whispers her thanks. Hayley tugs Declan’s cold hand towards the teacher’s wing. He’s still in shock. The lights are out, only candles burning on their perches illuminated the way.

Hope suggests gently, “I’ll take Declan to the commons room, you can go clean up in mine. There are fresh towels and anything you want to wear.”

Hayley nods, squeezes Declan’s flaccid hand, and finds her way through dimly lit halls to Hope’s room. The door is ajar and she smells candles burning. She nudges it open with a loud creak. He’s there, standing at the foot of the bed.

Klaus breaths a long and heavy exhale, his expression relaxing into relief. “Hello, love.”

Her eyes flick to his hands. They’re covered in blood. Her chest inflates.

“Did you kill him?”

He shakes his head slowly.

Her heart hammers; takes a step forward. Asks thickly, “then where is he?”

“Our daughter bit him. Elijah and Roman are taking him back to France.”

Hayley swallowed hard, not understanding. If Hope bit Harrison, her wolf’s venom would soon kill him. Why bother taking him anywhere at all?

Klaus takes a step, closing the gap between them. He touches her shoulder. She jerks. He drops his hand and says, “I sent my blood with them. They’ll heal him. But your revenge is now shared with another.”

_Elijah_. Harrison killed Antoinette and he now he wants the kill. And Klaus is going to let him take it. He knows she won’t want to go all the way to France to take it. She’s here with her husband. Her daughter. There’s still Charlie out there. There’s still a threat from anyone who follows Harrison. There’s still the question of why a witch was helping in the first place. How many enemies still scurried in the streets? She can’t leave her husband or daughter with that sort of danger.

Anger creeps and licks up her spine. _He promised_.

She growls and lunges at him. He grunts against the sudden impact, falling back on the bed. The headboard thwacks and a frame crashes from the wall. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing, she’s just angry and it comes out in shrieks of rage and pounding fists. He barely fights back, his eyes wide in surprise. He’s mostly dodging and blocking her blows, but she gets one good one in. His nose crunches and he growls through a sharp yelp.

Klaus flips her over, pinning her arms behind her head. She’s heaving. Blood gushes from his nose, splattering all over her face. Her fangs are already sprung, eyes so strained she feels as though they pulse with poison. She licks at the blood that pools near the corner of her mouth. It’s enough to remind something inside of her to stop thrashing.

“Good god, woman." He stares down at her. His fingers flex around her wrists, his pelvis adjusting atop her. She notices he’s smiling.

There’s nothing funny about this. There’s nothing amusing at all. 

She squirms under his weight. Seethes through grit teeth, voice vibrating, “you promised me my kill.”

Klaus cocks his head. “Do you think so little of me?”

She narrows her eyes. He rolls his.

Klaus lowers closer, dripping blood purposefully across her lips. “I suppose I shall walk you through it, then. Elijah and Roman will hold Harrison in France. His allies will flock there as we weed out who remains here. I thought you’d prefer protecting your husband and killing the waitress before taking a much needed vacation. When all is well on the homefront, you may have your kill. Until then, let us allow Elijah to enjoy making Harrison’s stay a most unpleasant one, hm?”

Understanding melts away her frustration...her anger. She goes limp beneath him. He rolls off of her and offers a hand. She takes it and lets him pull her up. 

Without letting go, he murmurs, “are you alright?” She nods. He adds softer, “and Declan?”

Hayley’s heart sinks. She thinks of his shock and fear. His guilt and...sadness? She honestly doesn’t know. All she knows is that it’s impossible to protect him from this dangerous and unpredictable world that she’s a part of. 

*


	8. Chapter 8

*

[ e i g h t ]

*

Declan is sitting on the porch, staring at his phone screen. He’s been quiet since they all relocated to the school’s safe house. As Caroline had put it  _ it’s the safest place in the world for walking targets.  _

“Dinner is almost ready,” she tells him. He doesn’t glance up.

Hayley crosses her arms and rocks on her bare feet. She worries her lip and turns back towards the door. His voice carries gruffly.

“Have you heard from Freya?” 

She pauses and replies over her shoulder, “yes. It’s not safe to go back home yet.” She doesn’t tell him about what Freya found. The house torn apart and Coriander lifeless with a witch’s symbol written with the cat’s blood on the wall. It meant  _ pure blood. _

He asks softly, “will it ever be?”

Hayley’s shoulders droop. “Maybe not for a while.”

“And  _ Camille’s _ ?”

“I’m sorry.”

  
  
Dinner is quiet. Hope and Landon talk softly at the end of the splintering farm table. Klaus nurses a bourbon and doesn’t touch his food. Hayley watches each of them, the candles lining the table flickering warmth and shadows across their faces.

She helps Hope wash the dishes. Klaus starts a fire and sinks into an old plaid couch, well into another glass of liquor. Declan stays at the table, scrolling through his phone and tapping his feet incessantly against the floor. She knows it’s probably driving Klaus insane.

Hope and Landon excuse themselves for the night. Hayley opens a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. She slides another in front of Declan, places a hand on his shoulder. He touches her fingers; light and cold.

“Come sit with us by the fire,” she urges gently.

He puts the phone down and sighs, bloodshot eyes flicking towards the crackling wood and dancing flames. She furrows her brows and touches his cheek.

“Hey…” she whispers. 

Declan stands and moves around her. He sits in the armchair, leaving her the spot aside Klaus on the couch. She lowers herself, wishing the couch were bigger. She digs her bare toes into the faux fur rug and tries to steady her breathing. Something is coming and it feels like loss.

Declan speaks first. His voice is tight and words slow. “I need to understand why this is happening.”

Hayley glances at Klaus. He’s staring into the fire, lips tight. She takes a mouthful of wine and gulps it down. Setting her glass down with a clink, she begins as steadily as she can manage, “before we were married I was taken by a group of people who don’t like what I am -what I used to be.”

Declan listens quietly, his eyes drifting between Hayley and Klaus. She explains some of the torture she endured and the lasting effects she’d likely experience forever. A tear rolls down Declan’s cheek. She explains the devastating loss of her wolf side. Klaus shifts, rubbing idly at his scruffy chin. 

“Klaus has been...helping me find some healing and closure.” 

Silence settles. Hayley plays with a loose thread on the couch. Declan softly clears his throat and asks evenly, “is it true?”

Hayley’s brow creases. “What?”

“Charlie told me about the affair,” he looks pointedly at Klaus, “with him.”

She stops breathing. Her heart hammers and the wine churns bitterly in her gut.  _ What do you have to say now? _

Hayley chokes out, “it’s not what you think.” She winces.  _ Cliche. _

Declan rubs at his face, leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, hangs his head. He makes a growling sound; something between frustrated and mournful...as if he had hoped it wasn’t true. As if he believed she wasn’t a horrible person, it was just a horrible lie. 

“Were you unhappy?”, he croaks.

Hayley’s lips part. Why do this in front of Klaus?  _ You know why. You know what he’s going to ask. _

“No,” she shakes her head vehemently, “this had nothing to do with my life with you.” She’s sweating and quaking. Her fingers tremble in her lap.

Declan wets his lips and clasps his fingers. His voice makes her heart ache. “You were struggling with something and you went to another man for comfort.”

Hayley shakes her head again. How does she explain that this was something he could never help her with? How does she explain that she let it go so far? With a man Declan has come to love and respect, no less.  _ You can’t. You knew this would happen. _

Klaus sits forward, glass of bourbon dangling from his loose grasp. “The impact of what she endured affects her vampire side more than either of us can explain. We-“

Declan cuts him off; tilts his head, stares into Klaus’s steady gaze. “Do you love her?”

The room grows silent. It stretches long and thick. Hayley wonders when she stopped breathing. 

Finally, Klaus answers, “she is the mother of my daughter.”

Declan raises his brows and rapidly fires back, “that’s not what I asked.” He leans back in his seat, “because I do. I love her and if I can’t protect her and make her whole, then the man who can had better well fucking love her more than I do.” 

Silence settles again. Hayley closes her eyes. Why won’t Klaus just  _ say _ something. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like they were in love and traipsing around with grand plans to start a happy little life together. They’re  _ family.  _ They’re  _ partners _ . He’s Klaus. And they should have found a different way. She thought she could have it both ways because it had worked so well.  _ You fucking idiotic selfish self-sabotaging moron. _

“Right…” Declan shakes his head, chuckling in the most tragic way. Turning his attention to her he says, “I was offered a job in L.A. I didn’t want to take it because that would have meant making you choose between me and your life near your family and home.”

She wonders why he didn’t ask her if she loved Klaus. She wonders why he didn’t ask what she wanted.  _ Because he knows you. He knows you in ways Klaus doesn’t. _

Hayley shakes her head at the inner dialogue. She states, “you’ll be safer there...away from any of us.”

He holds her gaze for a stretch of silence. Only the fireplace made a sound. He stands and shuffles towards her, puts his palm against her cheek, leans down and kisses her tenderly. He presses another to her forehead, turns swiftly, and walks up the stairs to the bedroom. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Hayley tears off the couch and out of the front door. She flashes to the end of the dock and stops at the edge, her bare toes curling over the cool boards. She cries in silent, body jarring sobs. She’s not even sure if tears are falling. It’s just pain and anger. All over again.

*

Klaus finds her there. He sits by her in silence, their legs dangling off the dock. He doesn’t ask...doesn’t wait for her permission. He just bites into his wrist and presses it against her slack mouth.

She drinks, because why not. Everything has crumbled. Everything has changed. 

He tastes like everything.

She unlatches and locks eyes. He’s apprehensive, she can see it in the furrow of his brows. It’s not a thought, more of a feeling. 

“Thank you for everything,” she whispers, both palms on his cheeks. 

He relaxes in her grasp. One quick movement and his neck is snapped. Easy as that. Klaus Mikaelson sags lifeless against her.

She’ll never forget the second of recognition and surprise on his face. His words from the past trickle in; the gentle way he cradled her face seconds before snapping hers.  _ More than you know… _

*

Caroline stared open-mouthed, but nodded and handed her the keys. Hayley had woken Declan, dragging him back to the school. She needed to get him to an airport and into California safely. Then she’d return home and start packing his things. And she’d do it in a car that wasn’t traceable. She’d do it cloaked in magic.

She’d clean up Coriander’s blood and close  _ Camille’s _ . This was her responsibility. Her mess.

And then she’d start picking off each and every remaining purist ally she could find. 

And she’d do it without Klaus’s blood in her veins or his tongue in her mouth.

*

Declan stands with his hands thrust in his pockets. A student from the school, one of Hope’s favorites, would act as an escort from here. He’d get him set up safely and scout the area. But Hayley remains confident he’s safer without her. The purists don’t care about a human chef. They want her daughter. They want Klaus. 

“Call me when you land?”

He nods, looks away. 

She grabs his hand. It’s cold and limp. “I’m sorry. And I’ll fix this.”

He pulls away. Licks his lips and blinks to lock eyes. “After you do, are you staying there? With him?”

“My life is with you.”

“But...it’s not really, is it sweets.” It isn’t a question.

She deflates. He’s kind. Too kind. It’s already over and he’s gently leading her towards that realization. But he’s wrong if he thinks it’s for Klaus. It’s not. 

“I…” she gives up trying to find something better to say than  _ sorry  _ and  _ please don’t hurt because of me. _

Declan pulls her into a crushing hug. “Take care of yourself. I hope you find your vengeance and it makes you whole.” He lets go and turns on his heel. She watches him disappear into the airport. He never looks back. 

She doesn’t know why the parting words hurt more than knowing she couldn’t protect him; she couldn’t honor the marriage or fix herself and be a normal person with normal needs. Maybe because she knew from the beginning she’d fail. But she hadn’t known he would understand why.

Vengeance and pain. A vampire’s lullaby.

*

Hayley knows how to draw out enemies. She learned from the best, after all. You make a little noise and strike first. Take out the weakest first.

The witch screams in pain. Hayley circles, drumming her fingers against her folded arms. 

“I can heal that. I can make this all go away. Just tell me where I can find Charlie. Tell me who else is working with Harrison”.

“I  _ can’t _ .” The witch rasps. Her strawberry hair is streaked with dark cakey blood. Hayley learned early that a head wound is the best way to ensure a witch can’t use magic while tied up. Hurts too much. 

She’d watched the restaurant's security footage, noticing the redhead speaking with Charlie more than once after hours. Declan had trustingly given the fake waitress a key. It was easy for Freya to identify the witch. 

This was going nowhere. The witch knew something...plenty of somethings. But under compulsion, Hayley couldn’t torture anything out of her. 

Hayley had already weighed her options. Kill the witch and draw the right attention. It could cause a problem with uninvolved witches, but they should know who supports such sickening ideals. 

“Tell me...what’s your opinion of witches who turn vampire? Does that make your skin crawl?”

The witch blinks. “Kill me already. You know you want to.”

“I don’t kill for fun.”

The witch shakes her head. “You’ll never find us all. Witches are meant to stay witches. Wolves are to stay wolves. And vampires-“

Hayley plunges her fingers into her chest, rips her heart out and sighs, “yeah, I get it.”

She drops the heart to the ground with a splat.

*

Seven witches. Seven witches who aligned with and helped the purist vampires. She murdered seven people and could not summon an ounce of regret. Hayley sinks lower in the tub. 

Klaus is in the doorway. He’s been there for a few minutes, just glaring as she washes the blood from under her fingernails. She doesn’t bother looking up. Took him long enough. She’s surprised.

“Where have you been?” Her voice sounds hollow in the echoing bathroom. 

“You mean after you left me dead on the dock and went on a killing spree?”

“Yep.” She finally glances up. Still feels nothing.

He narrows his eyes, enters the room with a rigid back. He leans against the bathroom counter, crosses his arms. “I killed Charlie.”

Hayley sits up quickly. Water sloshes over the sides, hitting the tile in a splatter. “She was  _ mine _ .”

He grins tightlipped, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only promised you the one. I hear you’ve been quite busy in my absence.”

She leans back, surveys him. He’d thought she’d go after Charlie first. He wasn’t looking to take that kill. He’s just trying to hurt her back. She’d hurt him at the dock...played on his feelings to catch him off guard. She knows how that feels -he’d done it to her, after all. 

“Are you ready?”

“For?”

“A vacation. It’s time you take your final kill and return you to your life.”

”That life is over.” She unhooks the drain plug with her toe. The water gurgles and sinks with each draining gulp. 

He hands her a towel after she stands, water cascading off her pruned skin. She steps out, wraps it around her, and faces him. Stares right back.

“Did you…” he trails off. Swallows hard and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you alright, love?”

“Let’s worry about more important things.”

His jaw twitches. Voice strained, he commands, “pack your things, I’ll be back later.” He pushes off the counter and shuffles towards the door. “We can practice your French on the flight.”

“Bonjour, je suis ici pour te tuer.”

He pauses and glances back. Shakes his head and smiles, “leur apporter l'enfer mon chéri.”

*


	9. Chapter 9

*

[ n i n e ]

*

Klaus orders another drink. It’s a full flight but Hayley sleeps through most of it. There’s something about the way a plane whirs and hums that sends her straight into deep dreams.

She dreams of things that make little sense and leave her pricked with sweat. She jolts herself awake a third time. Klaus lifts the armrest that separates them, tugs her to his side.

“You may drool on my shoulder.”

She wants to say no and get back to nodding away against the hard plastic wall, but he smells nice and in truth...she needs the contact right now. Declan leaving and the blood on her hands feels cold and foreign. Empty. 

Hayley nestles into Klaus’s side. It’s like curling up with a good book; a comforting escape. He only moves to take sips from his drink, and even that is lulling. The light tinkling of ice cubes against glass. Bourbon sweetening his exhale. She sleeps hard.

It’s a while before she realizes he’s with her in a dream. He tugs her hand and pulls her away from the dock on the bayou. 

“Did you enter my mind?” She knows the answer, can _feel_ him there. 

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Really okay.”

Hayley feels the trickle of anger. It’s not fair asking her like this. He can feel what she feels. He’d know if she lied. 

He cocks his head. “You know you wouldn’t tell me otherwise. And I need to know.”

“Then no, I’m not okay. But I will be.”

“Move back home. We can figure out what to do from there.”

Hayley feels a flicker of relief at the offer. Her house will be so empty. The restaurant will stay closed. No escape from the pain. But to ruin her marriage and cower under Klaus’s sympathy… “I’m not doing that.”

“I see. So you prefer to take the self-pitying route where you isolate and punish yourself further?”

“Get out of my head.”

He leaves without another word. She jerks awake and glares pointedly at him.

“Have some drinks. We’ll show up in France drunk and annoying. We can make fun of the ways Elijah will surely try to show off his life there. This is a vacation.”

Hayley grumbles, but indulges in three drinks before landing. Klaus makes her laugh twice.

*

Elijah is standing with his arms and ankles crossed, propped against a column. They see him before he sees them. He’s not in a suit, hair slicked nearly to the side. Even with his memories back he’s different. Still polished. Still elegant. But different. A sweater over collared shirt and polished oxfords kind of elegance. The kind of man who flirts in a bar before admitting there's a wife or girlfriend on their way. Hayley sucks in a breath. It’s still like a punch in the gut seeing him. Feeling things differently than before...but still remnants and fragments buried beneath.

Klaus places a hand on the small of her back, reminds her to keep walking forward. She’s thankful for the alcohol muting the anxiety she’d otherwise feel. She’s not seasoned and cultured like the Mikaelson’s. She’s backwater Louisiana. She’s the North Georgia Mountains with muddy boots and a backpack carrying everything she owns. She’s not someone who has seen the Parisian sunset drift beyond the Eiffel Tower with a bottomless pocketbook and mile-long itinerary. 

Elijah spots them. A flicker of recognition and he pushes off the column, clasps Klaus’s neck in a quick embrace. Nods at her, though she feels the draw for more. Muscle memory. Not enough to act on. She follows them to the old car waiting in a parking lane. 

“Why am I not surprised you drive a Citroën?” Klaus shoots her a knowing look as she ducks into the back seat. She supposes they’ve already begun making fun of him.

Hayley checks her phone for anything from Declan. Her heart feels heavy and cold. She stares out of the window as Elijah winds then through roads to his home. She doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to be here. In another life this was supposed to be hers too. 

“You’ll forgive the mess. Ann kept it a certain way but I’ve let it go in her absence.”

Klaus gives her another look when they step into the perfectly immaculate countryside villa. It’s everything Elijah had dreamed about sharing with her. Down to the willows lining a path to a garden. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. She wants to cry. Not because she’d change where life guided her, but because it’s just another loss. It’s another pretty path that couldn't be.

“There’s a room attached to our- … mine.” He swallows and looks away. “Niklaus you can take that one. Hayley, yours is just in here.”

She follows him into a room with double doors leading into the backyard. It’s lovely. An iron-wrought bed with a blue floral comforter. A full bookshelf. An armoire built for a queen. She drops her bags at the foot of the bed and murmurs her thanks. Raises her eyes to meet Klaus’s in the doorway. 

After a moment of silence, Elijah softly clears his throat. “Shall we sit in the parlor for a drink?”

More alcohol seems like a good idea.

*

“Is there anything you’d like to see or do while you’re here, Hayley?”

She blinks. Says nothing.

Elijah continues, “I understand you’ve never visited France. There is plenty you must see before you leave.”

He speaks as if this is some leisurely vacation for her. As if she wants to drink coffee in a cafe before touring Versailles. As if her husband didn’t almost die at the hands of the purists he married into. As if she didn’t almost die once, too. But worse? He knows perfectly well she’s never visited. He’s pretending all of their talks and dreams never happened. That this house in this city in this country wasn’t exactly where they planned to raise Hope and fuck every morning while the birds trilled from the willows. 

“I only want to see Harrison. The only thing I want to do is kill him. That’s all France has to offer me.”

So it came out a little harsher than she intended. Klaus shifts uncomfortably next to her.

She busies herself with the last several gulps of Cognac. Sets her glass heavily to the marble-topped end table. Stands and mutters an excuse to go to sleep early. No sense in going through pleasantries. She’s only here for one purpose.

*

It’s dark when her eyes creep open. She has no idea what time it is. Decides to creep out of the room and see if anyone’s awake. 

Cigar smoke and bourbon lead her to the balcony where they lean against one another. There’s a nearly empty decanter wedged between them and a cigar hangs loosely from Elijah’s fingers. 

“Hello, love,” Klaus greets. 

Hayley folds her arms and leans against the railing. “Doing a little drinking?”

Klaus murmurs, “we were discussing how we keep getting ourselves into this mess.”

They are clearly drunk. Droopy lids and lax bodies; draped over the chairs like exotic cats. Hayley tilts her head. There’s something intriguing about it. Maybe it’s just that she’s never seen them like this. Like brothers not expecting an audience.

“What mess?” she dares to ask. She leans her head back, her neck arches in a pleasant stretch. Her eyes trail down. Sees Klaus watching with the decanter at his lips.

Elijah chuckles and sucks at his cigar that sweetens the air. Klaus takes another sip, looks away.

Neither of them answer. 

She says nothing. What’s there to say anyway. She should go. But she doesn’t. She’s on edge and doesn’t want to sit in a dark room alone with her thoughts.

“Can I get some of that?” she asks. Elijah passes her the decanter. She takes a large gulp, tastes them both along the rim, passes it back. It hits her warmly and she slides to the floor, knees bent and head relaxing against the iron bars.

“Have you heard from Declan?” 

Hayley glances up. Cuts Klaus a look for asking. Then decides to let it pass because he does look less than sober; relaxed and knee touching Elijah’s. How sweet. She clenches her jaw and looks away. 

The doorbell rings and Hayley straightens, looking to Elijah. He glances at his watch, face flickering with realization.

“Ah, that would be Elodie. It slipped my mind.” He beckons for them to follow. 

In the main sitting room is a woman with long mahogany hair. She’s in a fitted black dress and wears an expression of importance. Next to her is a fidgeting girl with large hazel eyes that dart between Elijah and Klaus. 

The woman, _Elodie_ , speaks in rapid French. Hayley has a hard time understanding so she stares at Klaus, waiting for his reaction. He’s still gripping the decanter, eyes heavy and lips pursed. Elijah replies and Elodie leaves. But the girl stays.

He takes her coat and gestures for her to sit on the chair that’s situated near the drink cart. The girl sits with her back rigidly straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Elijah shifts to face them, a hand resting at his hip. She tries to remember his body language, something she used to know so well but now seems as foreign as the dialect here.

“Antoinette and I had been working for some time on a new way of life for the vampires here. She taught me what it is to embrace the natural state of things. Live in the dark, sleep in the light. No more stolen blood bags or unnecessary death. Feed on only the willing, for the blood is more nourishing that way. Fear and anxiety flood the system with toxins.”

Hayley’s eyes shift to Klaus. She knows that look. 

“And this girl? She’s delivered to you on a silver platter, is she?” Klaus smirks.

“Elodie was a very dear friend of Antoinette’s. They held many of the same values that I’ve come to adopt myself. She brings us willing humans. Those who know what to expect and are paid for their services.”

Klaus erupts in barking laughter. “You _pay_ to feed?”

“Do you not pay to sit down in a restaurant to indulge in a filet mignon?” 

“Oh good heavens, brother. Truly...what shall I do with you…” Klaus continues to shake his head, intermittently chuckling.

Hayley folds her arms and peers at the girl. “You sure they’re all willing? She looks like she’s going to barf.”

Elijah’s jaw twitches. He turns to the girl, speaks to her softly in French. Klaus snorts, turns and clanks around on the drink cart. The girl responds back, looking less terrified.

“This is Amelia. She's saving for college and this is her first feed. Though, she’s witnessed a few in preparation.”

Klaus turns to Hayley, muses, “can you imagine if my filet mignon came with a biography?”

Hayley ducks her head. Tries not to smile. 

Elijah lets out a sharp huff through flared nostrils. “Then I suppose you two will go quite hungry during your stay here.”

“Now, now. I’m only having some fun. It would be positively rude of us to turn our noses up at such a delectable high dollar meal.”

Hayley rubs at her mouth, says behind her fingers, “what are the rules?”

Elijah’s shoulders relax. “Only the neck or the wrist. Merely be safe and respectful.”

Klaus cuts in with a sweep of his hand, “I shall indulge, but Hayley needs her strength for tomorrow. The portion size for the price just won’t do.” He turns to her, says gently, “go on and wait for me. You may feed from me once I’m full.” Then adds pointedly, “no rules.”

Hayley’s eyes dart to Elijah. He stiffens and blinks away from Klaus. Now he’s looking at her. Something in his gaze makes her gut twist. She swallows and nods; heads to her room and waits.

*

“Why do you do that to him?”

Klaus kicks off his boots and flops on the mattress beside her. “He’s being a pompous ass.”

He rolls up the sleeve of his sweater, exposing his forearm. She tentatively takes it in her hands and guides his warm skin to her mouth. The fangs poke through her gums on command, eager and ready. 

Pausing; hovering over his pulse, she gently reminds, “he’s just trying to carry on the way Antoinette would have wanted. He’s grieving. You could try to be kinder.”

“Oh! Miss _that’s all France has to offer me_ …”

Hayley clenches her jaw. Shrugs. “Okay...so we could both improve.”

She bites down. He quiets as she feeds in long pulls. The euphoria trickles in and all of her senses melt into one single focus. Him. His taste, his pulse, his breaths. She could go on forever but he always reminds her with a gentle touch that she can’t. 

Hayley unlatches and sucks in her lower lip, relishing the spilled droplets. He’s quiet. Watches her clean the wound like a child with an ice cream cone. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow, love?”

She doesn’t know how to respond to a question that has so many answers. She wipes her mouth and tentatively leans her head onto his shoulder. The moon seeps between the curtains and makes their skin look alabaster and thin. She hooks a pinky into his. 

He drops his chin atop her head. “You’re ready. And when it’s finished, I’ll be waiting to take you home.”


	10. Chapter 10

*

[ t e n ]

*

It’s a beautiful day. Klaus drags her to town for wine and music while Elijah sleeps. She knows he’s trying to keep her calm, keep her vampire side muted for now. She barely talks, but she does take in the cool breeze and watches normal people doing normal things.

“Everyone smokes so much here,” she says, waving a hand to clear the smell as they walk through an upscale bar. 

“Oui,” he shrugs, eyes elsewhere as he pulls out a chair for her.

Hayley orders another wine. They’ve been bar hopping for hours now, scoping out the town and its people. She knows he’s trying to draw attention now rather than later. If there are purist allies waiting for their arrival...now would be the time to wave and say hi rather than while she’s trying to rip Harrison’s dick off to shove down his throat. She smiles at the imagery.

“Have I told you how lovely you look in that dress?”

She taps her fingernails against her glass, stares into his eyes that are the same shade of blue as Hope’s. “No,” she says flatly. She doesn’t care about how great her tits look in a dress. She wants to be in her jeans and boots. She wants to take some action.

“Patience…” he all but croons. His hand rests on hers, warm and gentle. She twitches beneath it. His other hand drifts beneath the table to calm the knee she bounces. 

The skin to skin contact yanks her attention. He tilts his head. She feels that shift. That change under her skin. The calling in her blood. He’s looking at her with the steadiest gaze while she’s squirming under his hands. Her eyes trail to the pulse in his neck; realizes she’s sucking on her lower lip.

The hand on her knee drops away and his chair scrapes along the polished floor. He weaves through the crowd, turning to exchange a glance before ducking into the bathroom.  _ Oh _ . 

She could go in there. Down some blood to steady these nerves. But. She shifts in her seat, the skin on her knee still burning in his absence. Declan’s face slips into her thoughts. He’s heartbroken because of this. Whatever  _ this  _ is.

Hayley drains the rest of her wine. Takes a gulp of his bourbon too. Then pushes her way into the bathroom.

He’s hovering near a stall. He backs into it, eyes locked on hers. She pauses on her short walk to join him. Glances into the mirror. Her eyes are already prickling with dark veins. She wonders if she’ll be like this forever. Thirsty and desperate for more every time his blood leaves her system. That would be a shit way to live.

Her heels click sharply on the tile. The stall door groans and clicks shut. Her teeth are in his neck. And his hands are low on her back. His phone goes off as she presses him to the wall. He tastes better than her last feed. Thicker. She sigh-moans in appreciation. He must have had a lot more alcohol in his system last night.

“It’s Hope,” he says, the glow of his phone catching her eye. She should stop, she’s had enough. But a little more wouldn’t hurt.

His hand glides up her back to rest between shoulder blades. “She texted that she needs to speak with us both when we return. She has news.”

Her hands snake up his chest, her teeth digging deeper. Gently, his fingers wind into her hair, tugging her back. She unlatches and catches the flow with her tongue before it reaches his shirt. His skin tastes sweet under the coppery smear of blood. 

“News…” he mutters to himself, finger idly twirling a strand of her hair. 

The pent up energy is maddening. Her heart thuds with adrenaline, body vibrating with rolling euphoria. She’s cleaned him thoroughly but still presses into him...still hovers her lips along his jaw, follows the sharp line to his chin. He could easily capture her lips with his own. But he’s either oblivious to this shift in her or pretending like he’s not pinned between a stall and an aroused blood-high vampire.

“Perhaps we should call her.” 

Hayley shakes her head, lips brushing just below his. Her fingers drift lower. His belly jumps as her nails rake down.

His hands fly to her cheeks. Swiftly, he places a kiss to her nose and moves from beneath her. He backs out, offering a lopsided grin. Answering her wordless advances, he says, “and get you all tired out before your big moment?” He clucks his tongue. 

He reaches and tugs her out of the stall. Props her against the sink and wets a paper towel. She takes in the lines of his face, mind drifting to Hope, as he dabs away the blood from the corners of her mouth.

*

Elijah meets them at the coordinates Klaus had secretly tucked in his pocket all day. Hayley feels calm. Strong. Ready. Klaus is buzzing through her veins and she finds herself reaching for his hand.

“Do you want us with you?” Elijah asks. His eyes flick to where her fingers grasp Klaus’s.

“No,” she states firmly, drops his hand and steps forward. “I won’t be long.”

The building is old and smells like mildew. She picks up on old blood, follows the scent down a narrow hallway. It’s dark and reminds her of the basement in the abattoir; stone walls and echoing drips. This was once a prison in a town that no longer stood. Now it was crumbling and a perfect place to torture someone. No one would hear the screams this far away.

He’s secured to chains on the wall, arms stretched over his head, toes barely touching the blood and urine soaked ground. 

He lifts his head when he notices her presence in the room. Crusting blood coats his nose and chin. Hayley notes the slash marks on his shirt. She wonders what all Elijah has done to him. 

“Finally,” Harrison rasps.

Hayley crosses her arms. Stops just in front of him. Cocks her head and says, “there’s a point you get to after being tied up in one position for so long...beaten and tortured. Raped. You get this feeling of  _ nothing _ . It’s better than shock. You come to accept you’ll probably die, so there’s no fear. The body separates from the mind...the pain is there somewhere but not really. It’s nothing. It’s waiting to die just as you waited to be born.”

He drops his head, chuckles turn to sputtering coughs. 

She picks up the knife. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t care when she pokes the tip into his gut. “See...nothing.”

She slices into her wrist, thrusts it against his lips. He jolts in surprise. So deprived that his vampire instincts take over and he sucks greedily. 

“There you go,” she croons. “Fill yourself up with me.” She thinks of Klaus. Knows he wouldn’t give this man the easy way out either. 

Color returns to Harrison’s face, eyes sharper. She knows he’s hit with a delightful rush. A surge of original blood mixed with her own. Knows he’s not feeling that  _ nothing _ anymore. 

“Good stuff, right?”

He breathes in deeply, adjusts in the chains. Purposely trails his eyes down her body. “Did you get all dolled up for me?”

She smiles, smooths the dress, “oh this old thing?” 

“Did you bring your boyfriend?”

“I did, I did. But he’s not one to hover. Lets me play with my toys alone.”

“Sorry I made your husband cry. Seems he was rather fond of your daughter.”

Internally, Hayley bristles. But she’s sure to remain collected on the outside. He’s lucky he didn’t touch Hope. Klaus is all gung-ho about keeping her humanity in tact, but had harm come to their daughter… She knows of the monstrous things that stir inside. She knows she’s capable.

“So...what’ll it be? More torture? Tear my heart out? Can we get on with it?”

Hayley sighs and pulls a wooden chair from the corner of the room. It scrapes and echos obnoxiously. She breaks off a leg and holds it out, examining it.

“I was proud to be a wolf. We get a bad rep, ya know? Angry, aggressive, unsophisticated. But goddamn if we aren’t the most loyal people you’ll ever meet. It’s that pack mentality.”

She curls her fingers around the wood. Rubs her hand slowly up and down the length. “What I loved most was the traditions and beliefs. An eye for an eye is a good one. You kill, expect to be killed.”

Settling her eyes coolly on his, she adds, “so I guess you’re wondering what we did with rapists.”

His eyes snap towards the thick wooden rod in her hand. She shrugs. “Hope it doesn’t leave any splinters.”

He swallows hard. “Wow. Here’s to proving stereotypes wrong…”

She smiles. “You know why rape is so much worse than merely taking something that isn’t yours?”

His eyes dart around the room. He’s nervous. She can scent it in the air. 

“It comes down to choice. You take away a woman’s choice. You force your way into her body and leave behind the filth of your own choices.”

She runs the wood up his inner thigh, stopping just below his zipper. “So I’ll give you that much. A choice between this filthy splintered chair leg up your ass. Or I let my boyfriend bite you with his filthy hybrid venom and you die a slow and painful death surrounded by your demons. Because they’ll come. All of them. That’s the beauty of a wolf’s bite.”

He stares. Then smiles. “You want me to choose the latter. Don’t have the stomach for torture, do you sweetie…”

She presses the wood upwards, pushing until he grunts in pain. She replies flatly, “choose whatever the hell you like. Either way, you’re going to be dead within the hour.”

He smirks. “Go ahead then. Bend me over. Act out your unexplored beastly wolf fantasies.”

She shrugs. “ ‘kay.”

Hayley swiftly kicks out twice, breaks his legs with ease. He screams, eyes wide from surprise and pain. She unlocks his wrists from the chains. He falls to the ground in a grunting heap. He starts begging as soon as his pants are gathered around his broken bones. 

It’s not hard for her to do it. She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind that it’s something she doesn’t have to do. But an eye for an eye is a wolf thing. Not a vampire thing. And tonight, she honors her wolf. 

His screams vibrate her bones. She can still hear them as she walks outside and faces Klaus.

“Bite him and leave him,” she murmurs. An eye for an eye means there is no choice because she never got one. He’ll suffer both fates.

He looks to Elijah. She sees a hint of a smile on them both. 

*

The car trunk clicks closed and Hayley stands at the curb with their bags. Elijah clasps Klaus’s neck and nods again as Klaus asks, “you’re sure you do not want to return home with us, brother?”

“This is my home for now.”

Elijah’s eyes slip to hers and he approaches tentatively. A wave of sadness hits. She loved him once. Very much. And then life led them onto separate paths of loss. 

“It has been good to see you. I hope one day you’ll consider coming for a real visit, perhaps bring my lovely niece to see me.”

Hayley offers a small smile and little nod. “Thank you, Elijah.” His name feels familiar on her tongue. 

She steps closer and wraps her arms around him. Breathes him in. She feels him relax against her. It’s just a knowing; everything will be alright now. Or at least better.

Their flight is full, but Hayley barely notices all of the faceless passengers. Klaus lets her have the window seat again, orders them both drinks. She watches a movie while he reads from a book in one hand, sips from a plastic cup in his other. 

She drifts in and out of sleep, eyes heavy during the second movie. She wakes with a blanket during the credits. Glances over to find his seat empty. A stewardess walks by, pauses to say, “he’s in the bathroom, sweetie. Wants me to tell you he needs help with his zipper.”

Hayley suppresses a laugh. He  _ would _ compel a stewardess to proposition her mid flight… She knows he’s just suggesting a feed before they land in Virginia. Hope would whisk them from the airport and take them straight to dinner with Landon. Without a feed she’d be on edge after everything that just happened. 

She makes her way up the aisle and raps softly on the door. It clicks open and he tugs her inside. It’s tiny and she has to squeeze by to get all the way in. 

They face one another. She wonders if there’s a crease on her face from sleeping against plastic.

“Hello…” he drawls.

“Hi.” She raises a brow and glances towards his zipper.

He uncrosses his ankles and gestures, “ah yes, I figured it out. But thank you for coming.”

She shakes her head and chuckles softly. Folds her arms and rocks on her feet. He just stares, head tilted and a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“What?”

“You lodged the leg of a chair up a man’s ass.”

She draws in her lips. Nods slowly. Shrugs one shoulder. 

His smile broadens briefly, then he leans back against the sink, props a boot on the toilet and tugs her against him. Her arm rests on his raised thigh and her eyes prickle in anticipation. She sinks her fangs into his warm neck, sighs soundlessly through her nose. 

The first sip slithers down the back of her throat and a quiver runs up her spine. She feels both his hands on her back; soothing little back and forth movements along the length of her. 

“What if they’re getting married…” he muses. Hope’s news has him obsessing. “She’ll want something small, won’t she. But a man’s only daughter needs a grand celebration.”

Hayley pauses to swallow. Shudders again. It’s hitting really strong this time. Syrupy and rich with flavor. He must have fed well before their flight. Maybe one of Elodie’s deliveries.

He shifts, causing her fangs to slip out. He doesn’t notice, just keeps thinking out loud. “Rebekah will likely fly her out to New York to find a dress. Perhaps we could have the engagement party there…”

Hayley licks at his closing wound. Even though he wouldn’t notice if she reopened it and greedily took more, she decides against it. It would last a while. She's full enough.

He grasps her shoulders and holds her so that he peers deeply. “Oh Hayley. She will be the most beautiful bride…”

She stares into his rheumy eyes. They don’t even know the news yet and he’s planning venues. She bites her lip and grins. Nods in agreement. 

After a moment, he seems to re-emerge from the daydream and straightens.

“Come,” he nods towards the door, “let us get back to our seats before they suspect we’re having too much fun in here…”

  
  


Hayley sneaks looks at him for the rest of the flight. He looks peaceful. Hopeful and happy. She wishes she could latch onto it and feel it as deeply as she should. She wishes she could picture their daughter on her wedding day. But all she can picture is the last time she saw Declan and the way he could barely look back at her. The restaurant, their home, their whole lives... She has a lot more to deal with than florists and the right string quartet. And she _wants_ to deal with those things, too. 

She wants happiness and a future that isn't set up to fail. More than anything, she doesn't want to hurt anyone. Not ever again. 


End file.
